From the Ashes
by BeyondTheSea13
Summary: Zelena may have been defeated, but things never remain calm for long in Storybrooke. A visitor appears that only one person seems to recognize, and she brings with her the ability to undo what is, perhaps, Rumplestiltskin's finest work. Season 4 speculation. Spoilers for 3x22. Rated T for some violence.
1. Prologue

A/N: Hey guys!

So, I've been wanting to write something for _Once Upon a Time_ for a while now, but this is the first time I've ever had something really concrete to write about. It's all season 4 speculation. Rated T to be safe.

* * *

The falling snow bites at his cheeks as he walks, but after five years living here, he is used to it. He tucks the being in his arms up against his shoulder. He can feel her squirm and he hums softly under his breath, a song about a lion that he knows she likes.

He is getting close now. The ground has become much less rocky and he hasn't crossed a hill or a valley in quite some time. He remembers the serenity of the forest in this area, how it had seemed so welcoming at first. He pulls his coat up so the top button covers his chin and wishes he'd thought to put on something warmer, but he left in such a hurry and with so many things on his mind. He is shivering almost violently, but the baby lays against his shoulder like she doesn't even notice the cold. He thanks god she is not so susceptible to the elements.

He spots it through the trees, a light in the distance, and suddenly, he is running, sprinting toward it. They are so close. He hasn't seen anyone in days, but he knows that means nothing. _She_ has eyes everywhere, even in the trees, and he'll be damned if he is going to be foiled when he is so near escape.

The snow seems to catch hold of his boots, threatens to pull him down with every step but he continues until he can make out the silhouette of the lamppost. H slows to a walk as he approaches it, looking around for the telltale signs of his passageway out, to a home he'd almost forgotten existed, but he sees nothing. He circles the lamppost again and again, hugging the young girl to his shoulder, but he knows his search futile. He can't explain how, but he knows the door is gone. It's been moved maybe, or closed.

He lets out a sigh and his breath fogs up the air in front of him. He should have known it would never be this easy. He would never be able to leave the same way he came. _She_ might have even engineered this herself. _She_'d probably expected him to come to this exact spot. Maybe he'd walked into an ambush. Maybe they were coming for him at this very moment.

A tear slides down his cheek. His face is already chapped from crying—he's been doing a lot of that the past few days—and the salt stings. He drags his free arm across his face, but the friction with his coat causes just as much pain as his tears.

With a reluctant sob, he leans backward against the lamppost and slides to the ground, the snow cushioning him as he lands. He feels the baby stir. She's hardly cried since they left, and he's exceedingly proud of her for that. Even at a year old, it's like she knows it could give them away. There aren't a lot of babies out here, or at least not the kind that cry. _She_ would surely be upon them in moments. He rocks her in his arms and begins to hum again until he feels her breathing slow. Then, he lets out a sigh and leans back until his head clunks against the metal.

He squeezes his eyes closed and imagines they're somewhere else, anywhere but here. Maybe somewhere warm, like when he was a child and his family spent summers on the beaches in the south of France. He imagines sitting in the sand in Côte d'Azur watching the young girl play in the waves, the sun reflecting off her white-blond hair. Really, he doesn't care where they are. They could be in Russia, or even in Germany. Anywhere would be better than here.

Without opening his eyes, he places a hand on the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her already thick hair. "I'll get us away from here," he murmurs. "I'll figure something out. Don't worry, Elsa."

He drifts off to sleep too quickly to notice the air warming around him.

* * *

A/N: Hi again. So, this was just the prologue. Later chapters will be longer. If you're reading _The Queen of Hearts _over in the _Frozen_ fandom, think about that length. Obviously (as you can see), Elsa's going to be involved. You'll start to see characters you recognize next chapter.

Like I said, this will all be season 4 speculation and will conform to canon up through the end of "There's No Place Like Home." We'll see multiple timelines. Flashbacks will be a thing. Shipping will be a thing (though how big of a thing I'm still not entirely sure). So that's what to expect. Chapter 1 should be up pretty soon, but I need to get the next chapter of _Queen_ up first. I'd say, conservatively, expect it before the end of the week.

I do want to clear one thing up, right off the bat. We all know that _OUAT_ takes a lot of liberties with the ages of their characters (Snow White was fourteen in the Disney film). I have done the same, so don't assume that anyone you recognize from anywhere else is the same age.

Definitely review if you have a minute, guys. Reviews are a major motivator. One constructive review can be the difference between working on the next chapter and watching Netflix.


	2. Chapter 1

When the sun comes up, the light stings Elsa's eyes. She's been wandering around the forest for hours. The years spent in an urn have given her exemplary night vision, but now that it is so bright, she can barely see a thing. She cups her hands above her brow as a shield.

There is a break in the trees ahead of her, she realizes, as her surroundings come into focus. She hears a strange noise, almost like thunder, and something wizzes past up ahead, quicker than she's ever seen anything move. She jumps back and trips over a rot.

Hastily, she pushes herself back to her feet and makes her way through the trees to the clearing. There is something dark on the ground, hard, with white and yellow markings. It almost looks like the paths the horses follow back home. She's never seen a path like this before, and in the distance, she can hear more of the strange growling noise, but she's already stumbled around the forest half the night, so she decides to follow it. She's got nothing to lose, after all.

* * *

When he regains consciousness, the first thing he's aware of is that he's not cold anymore. He can feel Elsa's weight in his arms, can feel her breathing. He relaxes, takes a breath, and opens his eyes.

He can't suppress a gasp as he looks around. The evergreens are gone, as is the snow. They are replaced by thick grass, blooming bushes, and trees with actual leaves that reach into the sky. He stands up and revolves slowly on the spot. The lamppost is gone, he realizes. He'd woken up leaning against the trunk of a tree.

Elsa straightens up in his arms. Something flies through the branches overhead and she reaches for it.

"It told you I'd get us out," he whispers, his lips against her ear. She laughs and he thinks it must be the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. "Come on," he tells her, hitching her higher on his side. "Let's go find somewhere to camp."

It's nice to be able to simply walk, he thinks as they move through the forest, instead of having to hide. He's not quite sure where he is, but it must be somewhere _she_ can't reach, because it's feels like summer here. Elsa babbles happily over his shoulder and he relishes being able to listen instead of having to quiet her down.

The sun is almost directly overhead when he comes across a campsite. That's what it looks like, at least. A blanket is propped up on sticks on one end and fastened to the ground on the other to make a shelter, and there is a patch of earth that looks scorched. Assorted cooking utensils in various states of ruin lie scattered in the grass, and he swears he can smell cooked meat.

"Hello?" he calls. "Is somebody here?"

There is no answer, but Elsa has gone silent. Then he hears it, quiet, deadly, like it's coming through clenched teeth. "Turn around slowly."

He revolves carefully on the spot and, when he comes to a stop, he is face-to-face with a woman. She looks slightly smaller than him, but she's holding a large, ornate sword, holding it like she knows how to use it. She is dressed in, what look like, the tunic and breaches worn by knights under their armor. He wonders briefly if she is a knight or—he glances back toward the campsite—was one. Her face is dirty and her hair, redder than he's ever seen, is tangled.

"What are you doing here?"

The sword is angled at his neck. He swallows. "I'm—we're—lost."

She tilts her head slowly to the side. "This is an odd place to be lost," she comments. "We're not close to anything. What road did you wander off of?"

"I didn't wander off a road," he replies, hugging Elsa closer to him. "I—we—just, I don't know, appeared. I woke up, and we were here."

The woman narrows her eyes. "Were you robbed? You look like you might have valuables. That's a very nice coat. Wool?"

"I don't have anything," he insists. "Search me."

"I will," she stands up and sheaths the sword. "For weapons. Not valuables. I have no need for those." She pulls a dagger from her belt and holds it up in front of his face, level with his eyes. "Don't move." She clenches it beneath her teeth and begins to pat him down.

"So," he says in as casual a tone as he can muster. "What are you doing out here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Her reply comes from somewhere in the vicinity of his right elbow.

"I would," he answers. "It would make this whole situation a lot less tense."

She pushes herself back to a stand. "Too bad. You're clean," she adds as she turns back to the campsite.

"What a surprise," he mutters, starting after her.

"I'll feed you," she tells him as she takes a handful of sticks from a pile under the shelter. "And you can spend the night here." She glances back at him. "Under your own tree. Then, you can leave tomorrow morning."

"Thanks," he replies, relief washing over him. They have shelter, they have food, they'll live through the night. He knows how to hunt on his own of course, but—he glances at Elsa—he can't just leave her in the woods while he does it, and it's much harder to stalk a deer while carrying a toddler.

The woman is building something that looks like a spit, and he'd like to help, because he actually knows how, but he doesn't want to set Elsa down, and, besides, he's not sure she'd accept his help anyway.

"What's her name," she asks, her back to him.

"Elsa," he answers. "And I'm—"

"I didn't ask for your name," she interrupts.

"You don't want to know my name?" he asks. "We are spending the night together."

"Under separate trees," she replies. "It will be much easier to kill you if I don't know your name."

"You're planning on killing me?" He is beginning to wonder if maybe he should just start walking again, take his chances in the forest.

"Only if I need to," she answers. She looks over her shoulder at him. "If you try to kill me first," she adds in the way of explanation.

"Then why did you want her name?" he asks.

"I wouldn't kill a baby." The woman almost sounds offended. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

"And what, may I ask, would you do with her, once you'd killed me?" He replies. "Surely not raise her yourself."

The woman shrugs. "Leave her where somewhere she'd be found."

"And what if she was found by some sort of… animal first, or—"

"Hey," the woman interrupts, turning back to him once more. "Are you planning on giving me a reason to kill you?"

"No," he answers quickly.

"Then why are we even having this discussion?"

"I don't know." He shuffles from one foot to the other. "Maybe I just want to know what kind of person I'm spending the night with."

"Under separate trees," she reminds him.

* * *

The path is lined with carriages, or, at least, Elsa thinks they're carriages. They seem to pull themselves, and there are no horses in sight. In fact, she hasn't seen a single horse since she arrived in this land. The buildings are strange and bright and _tall_. Most of them look like they have rooms stacked on top of each other like castles, dozens of little castles lining the path.

A small man, a dwarf, perhaps, climbs out of one of the strange carriages and goes into one of the little castles. She can see through the window that there are a lot of people in there, so she follows him.

The room that she walks into is loud. There are people gathered around tables eating and drinking, and there is a bar. It's a tavern, she realizes. She draws stares as she makes her way around the tables to the bar. It must be her clothing, she thinks. The people here are all dressed so strangely. She must be far from home. That or she's been trapped in the urn much longer than she realized.

The woman behind the bar is young. She has long, brown hair with red streaks in it. They are much too bright to be blood, and Elsa wonders how they got there. Her lips are the brightest red Elsa has ever seen and she wonders if this woman has, in fact, been eating raw meat.

"Can I help you?" she asks.

Elsa looks around. She isn't sure who any of these people are, and she doesn't know if she trusts them. If there is one thing she has learned on her travels across the realm, it's that trust is to be earned and earned again, that placing trust in the wrong person costs lives or, in her case, an unknown number of years of imprisonment.

"I haven't seen you in here before," the woman comments.

"No," Elsa murmurs. "I'm… new."

"Oh." The woman seems surprised. "Huh."

"What?" Elsa asks. "Is something wrong?"

"No," the woman replies. "We just don't get many newcomers around her."

Elsa isn't even sure if she can trust this tavern wench, but she's going to have to ask someone, she realizes. There is be no other way to find who she's looking for. She doesn't know the area, doesn't recognize it at all. She lowers her voice. "Do you know where Rumplestiltskin is?"

The woman's eyebrows shoot toward her hairline. "Rumplestiltskin?" she asks. "Why are you looking for him?" Her eyes seem to darken. "What did he do?"

Maybe she has placed her trust in the wrong person after all, Elsa thinks. Then again, she's never met a tavern wench who wasn't nosy, and at least she's not jumping to the man's defense. "I have some… some questions for him," she answers simply.

The woman seems to consider her for a moment. Finally, she nods. "Okay," she says. "He owns the pawn shop down the road. You're going to turn left out the door, go to the end of the street, and then turn right. It's the last one on the left."

"Right," Elsa replies. "Thank you."

She can feel the woman's eyes burning a hole into the back of her head as she leaves the tavern and steps into the sunlight once more.

* * *

Mulan knows she can take any man in the tavern, probably even any two men, but she doesn't much feel like fighting tonight, and since showing up in a tavern as a woman wearing battle armor usually causes just that, she decides to leave her helmet on.

A warm light greets her as she pushes the door open. Someone is playing a jig on a poorly-tuned violin. The atmosphere is festive, but all Mulan really wants is a sit at end of the bar with a large cup of ale and think.

Aurora and Philip are missing. That much is certain. That is the reason she left Robin Hood and his merry men in the first place. She has to find them. Philip is her best friend, and Aurora is… she shakes the thought from her head. Of course, maybe if she'd stuck with Robin Hood's band, she'd be with them now, because another curse has swept the land—that too is certain—and none of the merry men have been seen since.

A roar of laughter drifts from the far corner of the room. There is a game of cards in progress, it looks like. She turns her back to the noise and steps up to the bar. "A tankard of ale," she grunts at the barmaid as she takes a seat. She turns her head back to the card game.

The table is crowded with six large men, well-muscled but without amor, like their professions require hard labor. Behind the men, at the far end of the table, she can just see the top of a head covered in red hair parted right down the center. It is a woman, she realizes.

She hears a thunk as the tankard is placed in front of her, and she turns away from the card table once more. She brings the dirty glass to her lips and thinks of all the time she spent in taverns with Philip. One of them would get the drinks, while the other found a table, usually back in a corner where they wouldn't be disturbed as they planned their next move. He never let her keep her helmet on when they went in. He'd told her once that the two of them could take on anyone, and if anyone ever said anything to her, they'd make him wish he'd never been born, but, of course, no one ever bothered her when she was with a man.

She has never been in a tavern with Aurora. She hadn't thought it a good idea at the time, and she stands by that reasoning. Aurora has never been the most… sturdy, and parading her in front of a room of men who'd never seen a woman of nobility before would not have been wise. Still, it would have been entertaining to watch the horror on her face at the state of the dishes she was expected to eat from—the dirt caked on Mulan's glass is so thick, she can't almost can't see the ale sloshing around inside—or of the company she was expected to keep. Mulan would have been able to defend her, of course, but she has no doubt that the excursion would not have been in Aurora's best interests. Besides—she takes another swig of ale—if something had happened, she would have never forgiven herself.

Another roar of laughter from the card table drifts across the room. "Alight, men," she hears some say in a deep, gravelly voice. "Time to call it a night, you think?"

"Aye," a man with a younger voice replies. "Early morning tomorrow."

"Aw, come on," protests someone with a much higher voice, a woman's voice, as chairs begin to scrape across the floor. "We were just getting started."

"Just getting starting?" the second man repeats. "You already took my entire last week's wages. What the missus will say when I get home…"

"If you're still alive tomorrow, Pete," a third man says. "I'll spot you lunch."

She can hear their footsteps pass behind her and the tavern empties out. Maybe when they're gone, she thinks, she'll take off the helmet. It makes drinking so difficult.

But then she hears the stool beside her creak, and she looks over in annoyance because _this has to be a joke. _To her surprise, a woman is standing beside her. The red hair tells her it's the girl from the card game. She's younger than Mulan would have guessed, a couple of years younger than herself. The stool wobbles precariously as the woman climbs onto it. Her long, red braids sway. "One please."

She looks over at Mulan as the barmaid turns to fetch another musty cup from the cupboard. "Hi," she says.

Mulan nods and turns back to her drink. She pulls the chain mesh aside to take another sip.

"You can take that off now," she hears the girl say. "We're the only ones here."

Her mouth falls open, and she's thankful her face is still hidden. "How did you know?"

The woman shrugs. One of her braids topples over her shoulder. "You're not shaped like a man."

There's no point in trying to hide it anymore, so Mulan places a hand on either side of her helmet and pulls it off, shakes her hair out, and lays the helmet carefully on the bar beside her. "It can't be that obvious," she replies. "It usually works."

The woman leans close to her, like she's about to tell a secret. "Men never notice anything, do they?"

She thinks of Philip on his way back to the castle with her and Aurora, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside of her, to the way her face darkened anytime he draped an arm around his betrothed. "No," she agrees. "They don't."

"So, what are you doing all the way out here?" the woman asks. "I've been at this place every night this week, and I've never seen a soldier in here before."

"I'm not a soldier," Mulan shrugs as she takes a drink. "Not anymore."

The barmaid places a tankard in front of the woman with another loud thunk, and she immediately drains a quarter of it.

"I'm looking for someone," Mulan continues.

"Really?" the woman asks, enthusiasm ringing in her voice. "That's what I'm doing too. Who are you looking for?"

"My friends," Mulan answers simply. "They've been missing."

"I'm looking for my sister," the woman explains. "She left to study with Rumplestiltskin about… seven years ago now, and I haven't heard from her since. I thought maybe she was just busy with her magic, but now something's happened, and we really do need her at home."

"Rumplestiltskin," Mulan repeats. "He doesn't take just anyone. I must be speaking with nobility."

The woman pushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear and bites her lip. She stares at Mulan over her nose for a moment like she's considering her. Finally, she answers, her voice lowered so that Mulan has to lean in to hear. "You are. See, that's why I need to find my sister." She hesitates. "King Edmund and Queen Matilda are dead. I have to find her because she's the Queen in the North now."

Mulan sits there with her mouth open for—she's not quite sure how long, but at least a few seconds. She raises her eyebrows. "You're a princess."

The woman nods and takes another swig from her glass. Mulan follows suit. "I'm not sure if you're aware of the curse that struck this land…" she begins.

"The one that lasted twenty-eight years?" the woman asks.

Mulan nods. "It sent nearly everyone in the realm somewhere else. Another one like it struck almost a year ago, and it picked up Rumplestiltskin, so if your sister was this him, it might have taken her too."

"Do you think so?" the woman straightens up, her eyes wide.

"I do," Mulan replies. "That's where I'm looking for my friends. They went missing before the curse, but I know everyone in the kingdom around their castle was affected, so I have to try." She considers the girl beside her for a moment. The kingdoms in the North are a long way off, and she must be relatively capable if she's made it this far, even if she is—Mulan sighs—another princess. Finally, she speaks again. "You can join me, if you'd like. We can search for a way out of this realm together."

"Really?" the woman's face breaks into a smile so contagious that she can't help but smile as well.

"I'm Mulan," she holds out a hand. The woman takes it.

"Anna."

* * *

"Emma!"

She hammers furiously on the wood.

"Emma!"

"Ruby?" The door swings open and Emma's face appears, brow furrowing in confusion. "Aren't you supposed to be at the diner today?"

"Ruby?" She can hear someone ask from inside the apartment. Snow's face appears beside Emma's, equally confused. "What's going on? You're going to wake up Neal."

"Sorry, Snow," she replies. "It's just, something's happened, and I wasn't sure who else to tell."

"What is it?" Emma asks, stepping outside the apartment. Snow follows, pulling the door closed behind her.

"Someone came into the diner," Ruby begins. "Someone I didn't recognize."

"Someone from out of town?" Snow asks, and Ruby knows she is remembering what happened last time they had visitors from beyond the town line.

"Someone from our world," Ruby answers.

"How could you tell?" Emma asks, folding her arms across her chest and leaning forward.

"The way she was dressed," Ruby replies. "And the fact that she asked for Rumplestiltskin."

"She asked for Rumplestiltskin?" Snow repeats, her expression darkening with concern.

Ruby nods. "By name."

"And you have no idea who she was?" Snow asks.

"I've never seen her before." Ruby shakes her head. "She had really light blond hair. Her dress looked expensive, like she was nobility."

"We have to go see Rumplestiltskin," Snow decides, looking at Emma. "Before she gets there. We have to know what's going on." She turns to Ruby. "How long ago was this?"

"Just now."

"I'm going to go call Regina," Emma says as she reaches for the doorknob.

"Regina?" Snow asks, surprised. "I thought you two had some sort of… falling out or something?"

"She needs to know," Emma answers. "Maybe she can help."

"Fine," Snow replies. "Let David know too, while you're at it. He should be upstairs."

"Got it," Emma calls as she retreats into the apartment. "We'll meet you at the pawn shop in five."

"Well," Snow turns to Ruby. "Are you coming?"

* * *

A/N: So, the gang's all back.

Remember when I said I've have chapter one up by the end of the week? Well, I didn't realize I was going to spend all day yesterday writing fanfiction. Literally, I have done nothing other than eat, sleep, and write the past two days. I haven't left my apartment since Saturday.

Some things might be starting to come together now. If not, they definitely will next chapter.

I got a couple reviews on the prologue. I didn't expect much because it was so short, and it really was just an introduction. Please do leave a review on this one if you've got the time.


	3. Chapter 2

When Emma and David arrive at Gold's, everyone else is already waiting for them. Ruby is saying something under her breath to Belle, who, Emma is guesses, came outside the shop to investigate the impromptu meeting taking place on the front walk. Snow and Regina are standing a couple yards away, and they seem to be talking, which Emma takes as a good sign, even if they are standing about three feet apart. Snow waves as they approach, while Regina simply crosses her arms in front of her chest and carefully avoids Emma's eye.

"You guys could have gone in without us," Emma says.

"We thought it would be better to wait until everyone was here," Snow replies.

Emma hears a snort to her right, and Regina is muttering something that sounds like, "Speak for yourself," which isn't altogether surprising, because even if Regina wasn't blaming her for ruining her life at the moment, Emma has no doubt she would have had no qualms about marching into the shop and confronting Rumplestiltskin on her own.

"Is everyone up to speed?" Emma asks, looking back and forth between Snow and Ruby.

Ruby nods briskly, "We filled them in."

"Okay. Well," she gestures toward the door. "Let's go then, I guess."

It feels crowded in the pawn shop, but that's more to do with the fact that there are old and mysterious knick knacks piled everywhere in no particular order than the number of people present. "Sorry," Belle says as she piles through the door behind Ruby. "I've been meaning to get the place organized for a while."

As if on cue, Rumplestiltskin appears behind the front counter, wiping a suspicious-looking red substance off his fingers with a rag. "Well." A mixture of amusement and curiosity is present in his tone, and he holds his arms out as if in greeting. "I must say, it's been a while since I've had this many visitors are once. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We have some questions for you," David answers, leading the way across the shop, Snow and Regina close behind.

"Really," Rumple replies, and he doesn't sound surprised. "Ask away."

"It seems we have a visitor," Regina explains. "She knows you."

"I know a lot of people, dearie," Rumple answers as Belle joins him behind the counter. "I'm a popular man."

"Ruby saw her," Emma adds, looking over her shoulder, where Ruby seems to have taken an interest in a rag doll that Emma would stake her next paycheck isn't intended for enjoyment by children.

"That's right," she says as she worms her way between Emma and Snow. "She was young, close to my age, I think, and she had long, blond hair, about Emma's color, and she was wearing a blue dress with a cape. She wanted to know where you were. She's clearly from our world—"

But Rumple's eyes have widened. "Her hair, how did you say it was styled?"

"She had a braid," Ruby answers. "But, I don't think…"

She trails off, because the color has drained from Rumplestiltskin's face, and that happens very rarely, and it's never followed by something good. "She's not from our world," he says.

"Do you know who this person is?" Regina demands, leaning across the counter.

"I'm afraid I do," Rumple replies.

"Well?" David asks. "Why is she here? What does she want?"

"I would have thought that was obvious, dearie," Rumplestiltskin answers. "She's looking for me."

"Any idea why?" Emma probes.

He seems to consider her question, but instead of answering, he turns to Ruby. "Did you tell her where I was? Did you tell her how to get here?"

She nods.

Rumple studies them for a moment, but then he sighs. "She came to me years ago to learn magic." He's speaking quickly and glancing out the window behind them every few seconds, as if he expects to be interrupted at any moment. "I must admit, I was interested at first. She seemed very capable and very determined, something I'm afraid I can't say of all my pupils." Emma has a feeling this slight is directed at Regina, but if she recognizes it, she doesn't let it show. "But then she showed me her powers," he continues. "And it immediately became clear to me why she wanted to learn how to use them so badly."

"Why?" Emma asks quickly, because she too is beginning to feel that they are running very low on time.

"To rescue her mother," he answers.

"And you didn't want that," David says slowly, as if he's sure he must have misunderstood.

"No," Rumple replies. "Given that I'm the one who imprisoned her in the first place, I can't say I did. Her mother was also student of mine, long before you." He is looking at Regina. "Long before your mother, even. Hundreds of years ago, in fact."

Emma's eyebrows shoot toward her hairline. "And she's still alive."

"I'm getting there, dearie." His eyes flicker with annoyance and he takes another look over their heads before continuing. "Her name was Jadis, and her powers were unique," he explains. "In that they were already quite well-developed. She had a certain aptitude with ice spells, the likes of which I have not seen before or since. She was, to put it simply, the brightest student I have ever taught."

"Okay." Emma has a sneaking suspicion she knows where this is going, but she asks anyway. "So, what happened."

"She became obsessed with one thing she could not achieve through her own abilities—"

"Please don't say time travel," Emma mutters under her breath.

"—eternal life," he continues, and she lets out a breath of relief, even though, she is aware, this is still not good news. "She set off to find a realm where she could become eternally youthful, and she did." He pauses. "Narnia."

Emma can't help herself. "Are you serious? Like the books?"

She can see Regina roll her eyes and she thinks that if the mayor was speaking to her when she could help it, she'd make some sort of remark about Emma's obliviousness that wouldn't be entirely fair, considering the reason Emma grew up with no knowledge of magic, but Regina says nothing, and Rumplestiltskin continues. "In Narnia, there grew a tree bearing fruit that provided anyone who ate it with eternal youth. The inhabitants of Narnia regarded it as sacred, and no one had touched it for years, but Jadis found it and she ate one of the fruits, so," he gives Emma a pointed look, "Even though she is hundreds of years old, she doesn't look a day over twenty-five. Then," he returns his focus to the other members of the group, "She used her magic to burn the tree down."

"Why would she do that?" Snow gasps.

"Well, I assume so that no one else would be able to life forever," he answers in a tone that suggests it should have been obvious. "Word got back to me and I realized how power-hungry she had become. I'll admit," he glances side-long at Belle. "I was threatened, so I created a spell that would render passage from Narnia impossible."

"But, if this woman is her daughter," Regina replies. "There must be a way out. Or do you expect us to believe that she was born in the Enchanted Forest hundreds of years ago."

"I built in an escape route, if you will," Rumple explains. "There is one way out, a lamppost."

"A lamppost?" Emma repeats.

"A lamppost that will transport anyone out of Narnia if they touch it," he continues. "They need only fill one requirement. The lamppost will transport anyone out of Narnia and into another randomly selected world, as long as what that person wants most at that very moment is to leave Narnia."

"I don't understand," Regina replies. "How is that a trap at all? Obviously this… this Jadis wanted to leave."

"You're missing an important detail, dearie," Rumple answers. "Jadis wants to leave, but what she wants most is revenge on me for trapping her there. Her foremost desire isn't to simply leave Narnia, it's to return to the Enchanted Forest. As long as that is the case, she will never be able to get out. So, you see, when the woman approaching my shop at this very second came to me to learn magic, I had no choice but to stop her. I couldn't let her become powerful enough to travel to Narnia and risk her mother returning with her, so I imprisoned her. Seems she's escaped."

"Hold on, what do you mean you imprisoned her?" David asks, anger rising in his voice.

"In an urn," he replies. "I had it lying around. But I'm afraid the time for talk has passed." He points past Emma's head. She turns.

A woman with a long, blond braid and a blue cape is approaching the shop.

* * *

It happens just after dinner.

Elsa is sleeping under a make-shift shelter he created with his coat—it's much too warm to wear it here—and the red-haired woman is extinguishing the fire and disassembling the spit.

"You could just leave it up, you know," he suggests. "It would save you time tomorrow morning."

She gives him a look that tells him that's absolutely the stupidest thing she's ever heard, and he wonders if she thinks he's never spent time in the wilderness before. "The less this looks like a campsite, the better," she answers shortly.

He furrows his brow in confusion. "You don't think people will figure it out when they see your tent?"

"A tent is easier to miss than a tent, a fire, and a spit," she explains, and he can almost feel her rolling her eyes at him.

"You act like you're on the run or something," he states, turning back to the rabbit bones he is picking apart. "Is it for stealing that?" He nods at the sword, leaning carefully against a tree about twenty feet away.

"For your information, that was a gift," the woman answers, but she doesn't elaborate.

He raises his eyebrows. "Did the person who gave it to you steal it?"

"You're one to judge," she snaps. "I was under the impression you—"

She breaks off as a branch snaps in the distance. At first he thinks that's an odd overreaction to what is probably just a dear, but suddenly, she is standing up and looking around with the mixture of caution and alertness he has seen on the faces of animals once they realize they are being hunted, and he realizes he's hit the nail on the head. She looks at him and slowly brings a finger to her lips. Then, she crouches down and begins to move past him toward the sword. The men find them before she gets there.

There are three of them, all dressed in black armor with a red design that he doesn't recognize, but assumes is a family crest, on the front. One of them grabs the woman by the upper arm and pulls her to her feet. She is throwing kicks and punches, but all any of them do is clang loudly against the man's armor. A second soldier takes her other arm, and they are dragging her into the trees. The third soldier hangs back, looks at him for a moment with his head cocked to the side as if he's thinking. Then, he draws a sword and points it at his neck, so close it is almost touching, and he is sure he is about to be killed, but the man simply holds it to his Adam's apple for a few seconds before sheathing it and following his companions into the trees, where he can still hear the woman struggling. It was a threat, he realizes. _Don't come after us_.

It all happens in under a minute, and it doesn't give him much time to think, but he doesn't have to, not really. He knows what he's got to do. He takes a glance at Elsa, still asleep under his coat, and then plucks the sword from against the tree, where, he thanks god, the men must have missed it, and sprints through the trees, following the sounds of snapping twigs and the clanging of armor. Before long, he can see the backs of the men's armor and the woman, still kicking so hard they are practically dragging her.

He bends down and creeps forward, careful not to step on anything as he approaches the soldier in the rear, the way he would if he was stalking a buck. He strides the last few steps and, before he has time to give the matter a second thought, he grabs the man's helmet, pulls it back against his shoulder, and drags the sword across his throat.

He is not sure if it's the shing of metal or the sound of spraying blood, but the other two soldiers begin to turn before the first has even hit the ground. One of them drops the woman's arm as he draws his sword, and she twists, draws a dagger from her boot, and presses it into the side of her sole captor's neck. The last soldier must not hear it over the sound of sword against sword as the duel, so it takes him by surprise when she come up behind him, pushes his head to the side to expose his neck, and plunges the knife in.

He lowers the sword as he watches the man drop, and it seems to take forever, even though he knows it's less than a second. Then, slowly, he raises his eyes to the girl. She is staring back at him, her mouth slightly open, like she wants to say something but isn't sure what.

"Are… are you okay?" he asks finally.

She offers him a stiff nod. "Fine." But she is shaking, and she glances down at the body between them before meeting his eyes again. He fleetingly wonders if she's ever killed a man before. "Your sword work is impressive. I wasn't under the impression you knew how to fight."

"Oh," he replies. "Well… I do."

"I can see that." She takes a step toward him and holds out her hand. He moves to place the hilt of the sword in it. "Oh, for Christ's sake," she mutters, rolling her eyes, and then, to his surprise, she is reaching for the hand at his side, shaking it. "My name is Idun," she tells him.

"Edmund," he replies as she lets go of his hand.

"Well, Edmund," she says, stepping past him. "We'd better get back to camp. You left Elsa back there."

Edmund watches her leave for a moment before turning back to the fallen man and pulling her dagger from his neck. It is fine and jewel-encrusted, and he wonders how she possibly could have forgotten it, but, he thinks, it's not every day you kill two soldiers, so he pushes the question from his mind as he wipes the blade on the man's cape and stashes it in his belt.

* * *

"How are we even going to get to another world?" Anna groans. The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon, but they have been walking for an hour already—Mulan had had to threaten to leave her behind twice before she agreed to pull herself out of bed before sunrise. "I didn't even know that was possible."

"Magic," Mulan answers simply.

"How do you know what will work?" Anna asks. There is doubt in her voice, but also a renewed hint of interest.

"Throughout my travels, I have seen people travel between realms," Mulan explains.

"Your travels," Anna repeats. "Where exactly have you been?"

"I was a soldier for a while, and I traveled the empire with army," Mulan begins. "When I returned home, I set off in pursuit of a Yaoguai. There, my path crossed Prince Phillip's. I joined him in pursuit of his betrothed," she breaths a heavy sigh, "who had fallen under a sleeping curse. Shortly after we rescued her, Phillip's soul was stolen by a Wraith. After that, Princess Aurora and I accompanied Snow White and her daughter as they looked for a way to return to the world from which they had come. After they departed, we traveled to the end of the realm seeking a way to return Phillip's soul to his body. We succeeded, they married, and I left to join Robin Hood's band." The last sentence comes out rushed, as if she wants to skip over the entire episode in her memory. "When I heard that they had not been seen in some time, I left the Merry Men to find them, and here we are. So I am well-traveled."

"You reclaimed his soul from a Wraith?" Anna asks a little too loudly for Mulan's taste. "Isn't that supposed to be impossible?"

"We had to try," she shrugs. "Besides Aurora and Phillip had true love on their side. But this is a story for another day."

Anna is quite for a moment, and Mulan can almost hear her thinking. When she speaks again, it's a question she expects, but not one she particularly likes. "Were you in love with him?"

The answer is simple, has always been simple, but no one ever seems to quite believe it. "No."

Her companion is silent for a while longer, and, for a moment, Mulan believes the conversation is over, and then, "Were you in love with her?" This question, Mulan has never had before. It so quiet that, had she been another two feet ahead, she would not have been able to hear it. She stops in her tracks and studies Anna as she catches up.

"Don't worry," Anna mutters as she passes Mulan, her eyes trained on the ground, her face growing red. "I won't tell anyone. Not that there's anyone here _to _tell."

It takes Mulan a couple of seconds to register what has just happened, but she forces herself to start placing one foot in front of the other again. "It wasn't supposed to happen," she calls after Anna.

"Love never is," she replies, like it's a fact Mulan should know already.

"So, what about you?" Mulan asks. Her change of subject is abrupt and transparent, but she finds she doesn't much care, so long as the subject is changed. "Are you some sort of…" she wrinkles her nose and tries not to sound too condescending. "Warrior princess?"

"Nope," Anna grunts as she climbs over a fallen tree trunk. "Just a regular princess."

"So, what made you think you could brave the wilderness and find your sister all the way across the realm?"

"I had to," Anna answers, as if it's the simplest thing in the world, and this, at least, is something that Mulan understands.

"And what of your kingdom?" Mulan asks. "If you're parents are dead, and you and your sister are absent…"

"I left my _betrothed_ in charge," Anna answers, and there's something in her tone that peaks Mulan's interest.

"You're not satisfied with your engagement?"

"Prince Hans is handsome and brave and chivalrous," Anna replies with all the emotion as if she was reading from a trade ledger. "I am lucky to be marrying him."

"Luck does not necessarily equal happiness," Mulan points out.

"No," Anna agrees. "No it doesn't. But it's been planned since I was about three, so it's not like I had much of a say in the matter."

"Do you have someone else in mind?" Mulan raises an eyebrow.

"Maybe I _would_ have," Anna grumbles, and Mulan has enough sense to end the conversation there.

* * *

Regina leads the way out of the shop. In another time, her insistence in asserting her dominance might have bothered Emma, but she has to admit, it's nice to see Regina with purpose, something to do other than mourn her loss. David and Snow are on her heels. They form a line outside the shop, and it looks like something out of a western, though Emma realizes she is the only one who can appreciate this.

The girl in front of them doesn't look very threatening, she can't help but think. She has to be in her early twenties, and she's not even very tall. Then again, Rumplestiltskin, with his small stature and his cane, isn't particularly assuming either.

"What do you want?" Regina demands in the authoritative tone that first made Emma dislike her.

"My name is Elsa, Princess of the North Kingdom," she announces. It's comfortable, like she's done it many times before. "I need to speak with Rumplestiltskin."

"What about?" Emma folds her arms across her chest and shifts her weight onto her right leg.

"For starters," the girl replies in a carefully-measured voice. "I'd like to know why he trapped me in a vase."

"An urn, dearie."

Emma rolls her eyes. Of course Rumplestiltskin hadn't listened when she'd said, _stay inside_. She'd been stupid to think he might. Elsa raises her left arm, fingers flexed. It's a fight position. It's slightly different from Regina's stance, but Emma recognizes it, nonetheless. She has seen it far too many times over the past three years.

"I think you know why," he adds.

She narrows her eyes. "You'll find I have no idea."

"Why, your mother, of course." He sounds amused, not at all like he's standing in the middle of what is threatening to become a war zone.

"My mother?" She wrinkles her eyebrows in confusion.

Rumple nods. "Couldn't have you going to find her, could we?"

"What are you talking about?" She is shaking her head furiously. "Find her? My mother is at our castle. Or, at least, she was when I left." She lifts her head and looks past Emma to Rumple. "How long ago was that?"

"I don't know," he answers. "Years."

For a second, Emma thinks the girl might fall over. She stumbles, takes a step back. "Years? I told… I told my parents I'd be gone a year at most. Do they even know I'm still alive?" She looks between faces like she's hoping someone can provide her with some answers. "Where _am_ I?" Her voice cracks and she grimaces like she's in pain.

"You're in Storybrooke, Maine," Ruby volunteers, but Elsa looks like that means absolutely nothing to her, which, of course, it doesn't.

"Are you telling us," Emma begins. "That you don't know about Narnia?"

"_What_ is Narnia?" She's running her fingers through her hair desperately, and Emma can see her shoulders heaving as she breaths in gasps. Apparently, Snow does too.

"Maybe you should come inside." Tentatively, she drapes an arm around Elsa's shoulders and leads her toward the shop. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma can see Rumplestiltskin start to protest, but Belle elbows him firmly in the ribs and he snaps his mouth shut and ducks back into the shop instead.

'That didn't go the way I thought it would," Emma mutters. She knows Regina is the only one within earshot, but she's hoping for some kind of acknowledgement, any kind.

"That show how much you know, _Emma_." It comes out practically as a snarl, but Emma is glad to hear that at least she hasn't resorted back to Miss Swan.

* * *

A/N: Hey, everyone!

So, we're starting to see some familiar faces now.

A couple of you got the Narnia thing based on the lamppost, so that's good. I was kind of trying to hint at it without being too obvious.

Reviews really are what keep me writing, so please do leave one if you have a minute.


	4. Chapter 3

They haven't spoken much since they arrived back at the camp. It has grown dark in the forest. Elsa is perched atop Edmund's knee, gazing into the fire. It's mesmerizing, watching the flames dance. He hasn't seen a fire since he took Elsa and ran. It had been too dangerous to make one. They were just too easily spotted.

"We should move tomorrow," Idun says. Edmund looks up. She is seated on the ground about four feet away from him, skinning a rabbit. "He'll send more men after the three that have gone missing. We don't want to be here when they find them."

"We?" Edmund asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes." Idun stops what she's doing and slowly raises her eyes to meet his. "If you want to come that is. We've established we're both on the run, and I've got all the supplies. I just assumed."

He shrugs. "I was just surprised is all."

She nods and returns to the rabbit. "If not for you, I'd be on the way back to my father right now," she answers. "Of course I want you to come."

"Alright." And then it catches his attention. "Wait, your father?"

He sees Idun's eyes widen, and he knows she's let slip something she didn't intend to, but finally she sighs and her shoulders slacken. "Yes, I'm running from my father."

"Oh," Edmund replies, turning back to Elsa. "That's a relief. The way those knights were chasing us, I thought you'd angered a king or something."

The shucking sound of her knife against the fresh of the rabbit quiets, and then he hears her, just barely. "I have."

It takes him a moment to decide that his ears are not, in fact, playing tricks on him. "What are you telling me?"

"What you have to understand," she begins. "Is that my father is a very jealous man, an insecure man. It makes him a terrible ruler."

"Are you a _princess_?" Edmund asks.

"He's a tyrant," she continues, like she hasn't heard him. "A vicious tyrant, so I spoke against him. In hindsight, I should have realized what would happen."

"You're a _princess_."

She ignores him once again. "I guess he felt I'd threatened him—I'm his only heir, you see—and he told me I'd never take his throne. He told me one more word against him and he'd have me killed, he'd make sure my line never ruled _his_ kingdom. He told me I and all of my future children would have to sleep with one eye open."

"I can't believe you're a _princess_.

Her eyes flit over to him in annoyance, but she continues. "I realized I was no longer safe. I ran that night. I had a horses," she tells him. "But I had to leave him once the sun came up. He was a dead giveaway. The commoners in our kingdom are too poor to own horses." She sighs. "My father charged me with treason the moment he realized I was gone. Probably thought I was mounting an insurrection or something." She meets his eyes. "So I'm not a princess. Not anymore. I can never go back there. I'd be killed before I got anywhere near the castle."

"What about your mother?" Edmund asks. "Can't she put a stop to him?"

Idun sighs. "My mother has been dead for a long time. And were she alive, I couldn't tell you what she's do. I never really met her. My father's second wife, on the other hand, well, I think she wanted to be jealous of me over his affection, except that I didn't really have any affection to be jealous of, so I'm sure she's not exactly beside herself that I'm gone. She only married him for the status anyway. She's not going to do anything to risk that."

"So you can never go home," Edmund murmurs. She shrugs and drops her eyes back to her rabbit. "I can never go home either." He stops and considers for a moment. "Well, I can never go back to where I came here from. I guess I _could_ go home, if I could find a way to get back there, but… I don't know if I'd want to anymore."

"Where did you come here from?" Idun asks, and she's doing her best to sound uninvested, but Edmund can hear the interest in her voice.

"Somewhere called Narnia," he answers. "It was… well, I'm not exactly sure where it was, but I know it's not here, because it's always winter in Narnia, and where ever we are, it's warm."

"We're in the Enchanted Forest," Idun informs him. "You really aren't from around here, are you?"

Edmund sighs, long and bitter. "No, and I'm not from Narnia, either."

"So, where are you from?" She is not even attempting to veil her interest now. "I've heard of worlds beyond this one. There was one where you would never grow up." Her voice gains enthusiasm as she speaks. "And one that's looked after by three good witches, and even one without magic. Can you imagine what that would be like?"

"Yeah," Edmund replies warily. "That would be where I'm from."

Idun furrows her brow. "How did you get here without magic?"

He shakes his head. "I don't really know, to be honest. When I was fourteen, we—my brother and my sisters and I—we were staying with this man, Professor Kirke. There's a war on, where I'm from, or there was one, so we were sent into the country, where we would be safer. Anyway, we were playing one day, and my sister found this wardrobe, and she told us it took her into another world. Well, of course we didn't believe her, but it turns out she was right." He looks up at Idun and tries to smile, but he knows it's transparent. "It took us to this world called Narnia, that was ruled by a witch who had cast an eternal winter over the realm."

"That sounds terrible," Idun says.

Edmund shrugs. "It wasn't so bad. Anyway, we befriended this family of beavers—animals can talk in Narnia, by the way—and we were staying with them, and then one day, I was out by myself, and I met this woman on a sleigh, and she offered me food if I went with her, Turkish delights, my favorite food in the world. We'd been living off of fish and berries, mind you, so I went with her—"

"You're telling me," Idun interrupts. "That if someone came along right now and offered you these… these Turkish delights, you would go with them, no questions asked, and just leave me here?" She shakes her head. "Maybe I should be rethinking that invitation to join me."

"I wouldn't make that mistake again." He frowns and looks down at Elsa, still enthralled with the fire, the reflection of the flames dancing in her pupils before continuing. "It turns out she was the White Witch. The one who was responsible for the eternal winter in the first place. I didn't much care at the time. I had food whenever I wanted. I had _anything _whenever I wanted. My brother and sisters kept trying to get me to come back, but she had power and eternal youth and she promised I would have it too, and I was fifteen, and I just didn't care." He is close to tears now, but he'll be damned if he's going to cry in front of her. "That was four years ago. Seems like longer. Eventually they stopped trying. They joined the resistance against the White Witch, more like lead the resistance actually. We didn't speak after that."

There is silence, and then Idun asks the questions he'd known was coming, but it doesn't hurt any less. "What became of them?"

"They were causing too much trouble," he answers in an voice that is so robotic, he very nearly doesn't recognize it as his own. "She had them killed. That's when I ran. That's why I don't know if I'd want to go home anyway. I don't think I could bare it without them."

Idun doesn't reply right away, so he sits and pretends to watch Elsa as she squirms on his knee, trying to reach into the flames. He can feel her eyes burning into him.

"Is that why you're on the run? Because she killed your family and you think she'll kill you too?" It's barely a whisper, and he thinks it's quite enough that he could probably pretend not to hear, but he decides to answer, because the truth is torturous, but the silence is just as bad.

"I have no doubt she'd be willing to kill me. She never loved me, no matter what she may have said." He sighs. "I just don't know that she'd have considered it worth the effort, except…" he squeezes his eyes shut and hugs Elsa to his chest. "I took our daughter."

She doesn't say anything, but she's stopped skinning the rabbit again. It's like he can feel her disgust, her hatred, for causing Peter and Susan and Lucy to die, for falling in love with that woman, or thinking he was. He opens his eyes and he half expects her to be packing up to leave him, but instead, she's poking a stick through the rabbit, and when she realizes he is looking at her again, she smiles.

"Well, surely she can't get to you here."

* * *

"You're telling me," Elsa begins. She is seated on the bed in the back of Rumplestiltskin's shop between Snow and Belle, the others standing in a semi-circle around her. "That I was a born in a world outside the Enchanted Forest that is stuck in an eternal winter, thanks to an evil witch, who also happens to be my mother." She looks around at them, eyebrows raised. "And you expect me to just take your word for it?"

"Would I lie about a thing like this, dearie?" Rumplestiltskin replies, and Emma isn't very convinced because, if there's one thing she knows, it's that Rumplestiltskin would absolutely lie about a thing like this.

"I really don't know what you'd do," Elsa answers through gritted teeth. "Because you trapped me inside an urn for seven years instead of teaching me."

"Technically, it was thirty-five years," he answers.

"But we were cursed for twenty-eight," Snow rushes to add, because Elsa looks like she might pass out. "No time passed."

"The girl raises a fair point." Regina turns to Rumple. "Why should we believe you? What proof do we have that what you're saying is true?"

"Only my history of honesty," Rumple replies, and Emma rolls her eyes. "That and the fact that I am in possession of the only portal capable of transporting a person into Narnia."

"You can get someone there?" David asks. "I thought you said it was impossible."

"I thought you'd realized by now, dearie." Emma can hear the amusement in his voice. Now that it has become clear that Elsa is no threat, he gone straight back to his perpetual state of finding mild entertainment in the expense of others. "I have a certain… talent, shall we say, for creating loopholes."

"But even if what you're telling me about Narnia is true." Elsa slowly meets his eye. "Why should I believe that I'm the daughter of this… this White Witch?"

"If you'd studied with me, you be aware of one basic principle of magic. It always comes from somewhere," he explains. He looks to Regina, and she reluctantly nods. "Now let me ask you one simple question. Where did your magic come from?"

"It…" Elsa draws her brows together in thought. "I don't know," she answers. "I was born with it. It was random."

"Wrong!" Rumplestiltskin replies so suddenly that everyone in the room jumps. "You inherited it from your mother."

"But, you said Jadis was the most powerful student you ever taught," Elsa argues. "My magic is limited to ice."

"Because your father came from a land without magic," he replies. "The magic in your blood is… diluted."

"If that's true, then I have no right to inherit the throne in Arendelle." Elsa lowers her eyes, and she seems to be speaking more to herself than anyone, but they all listen anyway.

"I'm afraid not, dearie," Rumplestiltskin answers, sounding like he's not sorry at all. "But there is a throne somewhere else that you have a claim to."

"The throne in Narnia."

"Exactly." Rumplestiltskin face is so gleeful, like this couldn't be working out any better for him, that Emma is becoming increasingly uncomfortable with whatever it is he's about to suggest.

"Are telling me," Elsa raises her eyes to meet Rumple's once more. "That I should go take the throne from my mother?"

"Well, you'll never inherit it if you don't," he answers. "She's eternally youthful. She's not going to give it to you any other way."

"You want me to kill her?" Elsa's eyebrows have nearly disappear into her hairline.

"Elsa," Emma says. "The only person Rumplestiltskin's plans ever work out for his him."

"Is that so?" Rumple asks. "You have your son, do you not, Miss Swan?"

"Yeah, but I also grew up without a family," Emma argues.

"But if you had grown up in the Enchanted Forest surrounded by family, your boy never would have been born at all," he points out, and Emma can't argue with that, so she lets the matter die. "Besides, the loss of the Queen wouldn't exactly be a bad thing for the inhabitants of Narnia," he adds. "They've been trapped in an eternal winter for hundreds of years because of her."

"What's in it for you?" Regina asks. Rumple turns to her. "Oh, don't give me that look. You wouldn't be telling us this if there wasn't something in it for you."

"For once, I agree with Regina," Snow says. Regina glances at her with a look that's mostly annoyance, but Emma can just see a hint of some other emotion. Surely not gratitude, but maybe at least appreciation.

"My dear, the knowledge that that witch is dead is reward enough for me," he answers, and Emma almost believes him.

"I think…" Elsa's voice is soft, wavering, her eyes closed, and her face contorted in concentration. "I think I'll do it." She snaps her eyes open. "I'll go fight my mother for the throne. So I can undo the damage she's done."

"Are you sure—" Ruby begins.

"I have to," Elsa interrupts. "You heard him. This winter has been going on for hundreds of years. She's not going to end it until someone puts an end to her. And if she really is my mother…"

"Then it's still not your responsibility," Snow argues. "You can't help the family you're born into."

Elsa turns to her, and when she speaks, her voice is level. "If I simply went back home to my old life and ruled over Arendelle as if nothing had happened, even after everything I've learned, what kind of queen would that make me? What kind of person?"

Emma sees Regina roll her eyes, but Snow smiles and nods in approval. "Well, in that case, you can't go alone."

"Of course anyone who want to join me is welcome," Elsa answers. "The more help I can get, the better. I just assumed… this is my mess, after all. My family."

Emma hears a bark of laughter to her left, and when she turns, she's is surprised to sees that it is coming from Regina. "If I had a horse for every time others have helped me clean up my family drama." She straightens her jacket, and says, to Emma's surprise, "I'll go with you. After all," she sighs. "I could stand to get out of this town for a while." Emma thinks she sees Regina's eyes flit toward her, but it happens so quickly, that she might have imagined it. "Besides dear, if this Jadis really is as powerful as this one says she is, you can use all the magic you can get."

"I'll go too," Ruby chimes in. "For protection. The full moon is coming. And even if they don't have full moons in Narnia, I can track. And anyway, I'm done babysitting the town while you guys go on all the adventures."

Emma sighs. She knows what decision she's going to make before she makes it, honestly. Regina would say it's because she can't turn down a noble cause. Emma thinks it's just that she's a thrill-seeker. "I'll go." Regina's eyes are immediately on her, her eyebrows slanting in anger. "Like you said," she explains. "You guys can use all the magic you can get." There is a nearly imperceptible nod in Regina's direction that Regina does not acknowledge, and then Snow speaks up.

"If she's going, I'm going."

"What?" David sputters almost comically. He lowers his voice as if there aren't four people standing between him and his wife. "You can't go now. What about our son?"

"What about our daughter, David?" she asks. "I am not letting her go after some unknown witch in another realm by herself. Neal will be fine. I have confidence in you."

"Great," Regina mutters. "I'll be traipsing through the snow with the Bringer of All Things Good and her loyal band of Sugar Plum Fairies."

"You don't have to come Regina," Emma reminds her. "In case you've forgotten in the past minute, you volunteered."

Regina shoots her a look that says, quite plainly, you've got to be kidding. "You don't stand a chance without me."

* * *

"You never told me how you're planning on getting us to another realm," Anna points out as they sit around the fire. The sun is down below the trees and the forest is quiet, save for the rhythmic chirping of the crickets. Mulan likes it best this way. It makes it easier to hear what's coming.

"No," Mulan agrees. "I didn't. You were too busy discussing my love life."

"Or lack thereof," Anna mutters.

Mulan looks up. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing. So about those portals," she adds. "Where can we find one?"

"Well, I know magic beans can create portal." Mulan thinks for a moment. "Or looking glasses, but I don't know where we'd find one of those."

"Wait," Anna replies. "When I was passing through Princess Aurora's kingdom, I heard talk about a looking glass in Maleficent's castle. I didn't understand what the big deal was at the time, but maybe that was it."

"Maleficent did have a looking glass that could become a portal," Mulan answers. "But it was stolen years ago. And then there are the ruby slippers, but those have been lost for ages. I tried to help someone find them about two years ago, but it proved impossible. They say there's a hat that can open up a portal, but I don't know where we'd even begin to look for that."

"So what you're telling me is that you have no plan," Anna says.

"I'm afraid I haven't gotten quite that far yet," Mulan replies. "Besides, I don't hear you making any suggestions."

"Only because I don't know anything about traveling between worlds," Anna argues. "You told me you did."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Princess." Mulan's tone is biting. "But there's a difference between knowing a the ways a person _can_ portal hop and knowing how _we_'re going to do it."

"Okay, okay," Anna sighs. "Fighting isn't going to get us anywhere. Let's just… let's just choose a portal and go from there. Any word on where the looking glass might have ended up?"

"No." Mulan shakes her head. "But I heard there was more than one."

"Really?" Anna asks. "Did you happen to hear where the other ones were?"

"I didn't," Mulan replies. "But I bet… I bet that if Maleficent had one, the Evil Queen had one too. They were… competitive with each other."

"So what, you want to burglarize the Evil Queen's castle?" Anna's voice is incredulous, like she's sure this must be some sort of joke.

Mulan shrugs. "She's not there."

"But… but…" Anna sputters. "What if she comes back?"

"She got swept up in the curse. She not coming back anytime soon," Mulan assures her.

"Have you done anything like this before?"

"I camped out in the Dark Castle for a while."

"Are you kidding me?" Anna exclaims a little too loudly. "You couldn't have told me that before?"

Mulan raises her eyebrows. "Would it have changed your mind about coming with me?"

Anna hesitates. "Probably not," she replies slowly. "But it would have been nice to know I was partnering up with someone who has a death wish."

"Not a death wish," Mulan shakes her head. "Just a willingness to do whatever it takes to find my friends."

"Why are you so determined to find them anyway?" Anna asks, cocking her head to the side in interest. "You're not one of their knights. That armor looks nothing like the other armor I've seen in Prince Phillip's kingdom.

"Why are you so determined to find your sister?" Mulan replies.

"That's different, and you know it," Anna answers. "She's family, and now she's the Queen."

"Phillip and I fought many battles together," Mulan explains. "He saved my life many times."

"So?" Anna asks. "You said you got his soul back from a Wraith, and that's supposed to be impossible. Don't you think that's repayment enough?"

"It's not about _repayment_." Mulan wrinkles her nose. "It's about going into battle knowing the person beside you will be with you, no matter what. It's about trust and loyalty. I would never leave Phillip in harm's way. Not if there was anything that could be done about it."

"And Aurora?" Anna's voice is quiet, nervous, like she still hasn't completely decided that she wants to broach the subject.

"At first I traveled with Aurora, only because I swore to Phillip that I would take care of her," Mulan explains. "I owed him that much." She sighs. "Now I don't have to owe anyone anything to see that she's taken care of. I want that for her."

"Even if it's not you that's taking care of her anymore?"

"Phillip is a good man," Mulan answers. "A friend. I left her with him once, and I would do it again."

Anna whistles, low and long. "You're way more noble than I am. That's for sure."

Mulan shrugs. "I simply want what's best for both of them. Being a soldier means putting others before yourself."

"But you're not a soldier anymore," Anna points out.

"No," Mulan answers. "I'm not. But some habits do not leave us so easily."

"If you love her." Anna is speaking slowly, like she is trying to work something out in her head. "It might work out for you in the end."

Mulan shakes her head. "What Phillip and Aurora have is love. What Aurora and I have is…"

"One-sided?" Anna asks sympathetically. Mulan hears her breathe a heavy sigh. They are silent for a moment before Anna speaks again. "There was someone. Sort of."

"Oh?" Mulan looks up.

"Kris-toff." She drags the name out on her tongue like she has to think about how it ends. "He worked in the stables. In Arendelle, we use reindeer instead of horses to pull our sleds. They're temperamental creatures and… he had a way with them. My sister was ten years older than me, and she was always busy learning about diplomacy and economics and stuff, so we were never very close, and then she left when I was fourteen, and I was completely alone. Kristoff was my friend."

Mulan nods. "That's often how it begins, so I hear."

"And where it ended," Anna answers bitterly. "Nothing ever happened. Sh—Kristoff—would never have been interested." She breathes another long sigh. "And I was betrothed anyway."

"Well," Mulan replies. "It seems we have more in common than we thought."

"Seems that way," Anna agrees.

"We'll depart for the Evil Queen's castle at sunrise," Mulan informs her. "You should try to get some sleep."

"I'm warning you now," Anna answers. "If you get me killed, I'll kill you."

* * *

"Emma, a word?"

Regina's voice takes Emma by surprise, the fact that she doesn't sound particularly angry, just urgent. The fact that she's speaking to Emma at all.

"What's up?" she asks, as Regina steers them toward corner of the pawn shop, out of earshot of the rest of the group, now congregated just behind the register.

"I hope you're not coming on this little excursion because of some misguided belief that only you can save the day—" she begins.

"Regina, why would I think that?" Emma interrupts. "In case you haven't noticed, I wasn't the one who brought down Cora, or Peter Pan, or Zelena."

"Oh, believe me, dear, I noticed," Regina mutters. "I was merely making sure you did too."

Emma crosses her arms. "Do you really think so little of me after all this time?"

"Well," Regina replies. "You do seem to have a bit of a hero complex, saving people who aren't supposed to be saved and all."

"Is that what this is about?" Emma snaps. "What was I supposed to do, Regina? Leave her to die? To be killed by _you_? I thought you were one of the good guys now."

"Nothing's that black and white, dear," Regina answers. "I'm not complaining that you let the girl live, just that you decided to bring her back with you."

"I told you, we didn't have another choice," Emma explains for, what seems like, the tenth time since their unfortunate encounter the previous evening. "We were kind of backed into a corner."

Regina raises her eyebrows. "And I suppose I'll just have to take your word for it, won't I?"

"Yeah, I guess you will," Emma replies. "But let me ask you this, Regina. Have I ever lied to you?"

Regina sighs, lowers her eyes, and let the matter drop for the time being, because, no, Emma has never lied to her, and that's certainly more than she can say for herself. "So, if we're both going to go gallivanting off into another realm, where do you suggest we leave Henry? Surely not with your father. I have a feeling he's already in over his head with that baby." She glances sidelong at David.

Emma draws her brows together in thought. "Maybe with Hook?"

Regina laughs. "We are not leaving our son with that pirate. The fact that he's your boyfriend now does not make him any more responsible than he ever was."

"He is not my boyfriend," Emma argues in a whisper.

Regina raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Henry likes him."

"Henry also liked Peter Pan, but that doesn't mean I'd let him babysit," Regina points out.

"Fine," Emma concedes. "Maybe he can stay with Granny. With Ruby gone, she could probably use the help in the diner."

"Right," Regina replies. "We'll just leave our thirteen-year-old son somewhere where he'll have to earn his keep."

"Henry's fourteen," Emma corrects her. "The missing year. You know, Regina, I don't see you making any suggestions."

"Well, thanks to a certain meddlesome sheriff, I no longer have any loved ones I can call on to watch my son," she answers.

"Okay, listen. David's out, Hook's out, Belle's out now because she's married to Rumplestiltskin, Aurora's out because she has a new baby, and her husband still hasn't been found. Unless you can come up with a better idea in the next five minutes, I'm leaving him with Granny," Emma informs her.

"Fine," Regina sighs. "As long as he locks his door when it's a full moon."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Granny doesn't turn anymore, and if she did, there's no way a looked door would stop her."

"All the same," Regina replies as she straightens her jacket.

"Emma? Regina?" Snow is approaching them. "We're going to meet back here in ten minutes to leave. Why don't you go say goodbye to Henry?"

Regina nods silently and hurries out of the shop without another word. Emma shoots Snow a look that is halfway between gratitude and exasperation as she follows her.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys, sorry about the wait. This chapter was obviously a lot of exposition, and, to be honest, exposition is not a lot more fun to write than it is to read, but it's all important stuff, so there was really no getting around it. There's also a lot of timeline information in this chapter, particularly about Anna and Elsa and the curse, so hopefully this that clears up some of the confusion. When Anna said Elsa had been gone for seven years in the last chapter, she left out the twenty-eight years that they were cursed, because I thought it would cause more confusion if I had her say Elsa was gone for thirty-five years, but, apparently, that was not the case. My bad. So as of this chapter, Elsa, Anna, and Edmund all have ages, and you can sort of start to see where they fit with the events of the series. Elsa would be about Snow's age if she hadn't been trapped in the urn for seven years, and Anna is about the age that Aurora would be if she hadn't spent a year as a flying monkey (the timelines on this show, my god).

Anyway, I think that's it. Hopefully the next chapter will be up before too long. Now that it's summer, I don't have much of a life, so what else am I going to do?

Please review if you've got a minute. I look forward to reading them every update.


	5. Chapter 4

It only takes Edmund a week to realize that wolves are just as prevalent in the Enchanted Forest as they were in Narnia. He has seen them, of course, skulking through the trees after sunset, and he knows they are the reason Idun insists on keeping the fire lit the entire night. Somehow he just hadn't expected them to be so… well, so wild. The wolves in Narnia took their orders from Jadis, which meant they attacked only when she wanted them to. Mostly they just patrolled, and since Jadis made sure they were fed, they didn't typically bother people who didn't bother them. The wolves here are vicious. It's like they see anything that moves as a challenge. Edmund doesn't have any experience with the wolves in the world where he was born, but he imagines they must have been similar. This must be what wolves are like when they're forced to fend for themselves.

Regardless, he doesn't have time to deliberate on the matter too carefully as Idun shakes him from his sleep and tells him that _it's time to go_, in a voice that's so urgent he completely skips over the stage of waking up where he doesn't know where he is or who she is or why he can't have five more minutes and progresses to feeling for Elsa beside him as he begins to untie the deer hide he is using for a shelter from the stakes in the ground. He feels her grip his shoulder.

"No time," she says quickly, shaking her head. He can feel his brow crease in confusion, and she opens her mouth to speak again, but before any sound comes out, he hears a howl that sounds far too close for comfort, and he understands.

"What's the plan?" he asks.

"Go fan the fire," Idun answers, already darting around the outskirts of the campsite, gathering twigs. "And get _her_."

He scoops Elsa up and rushes to the pile of smoldering ashes between the two trees under which they'd been sleeping. He sets Elsa down only to pull off his coat and begins to wave it back and forth in the hopes of bringing to life a flame. Idun appears at his side and drops an armful of sticks and leaves on the pile. He hears another howl, closer this time.

"Here," he hears from over his left shoulder. He turns and Idun is handing him something that looks like a handmade spear.

"Where did that come from?" he asks, his eyes widening in surprise.

"I made it," she explains. "After you fell asleep."

"While you were supposed to be keeping the fire going?" he questions.

"I was keeping the fire going," she hisses. "Until _I_ fell asleep. Don't you think I feel bad enough about that already? Take the spear."

"Why can't I have the sword?" he asks, and he knows he's pushing his luck. Even though he saved her with it, Idun is very protective of that sword, and just as intent, if not more so, as before on proving her ability to fend for herself. Not that he ever doubted her. She'd lived in the forest alone for a year before he came along.

She rolls her eyes. "Because it's _mine_," she answers, as if that's logical enough, and, he supposes, if it's her own life she's concerned about, it is.

"But I have Elsa," he argues. "I should have the better weapon."

She is shaking her head before he is even finished speaking. "Both my hands are free. I have more mobility. I'll be able to do more damage."

"But I'm—" He begins to say _better trained_, but she interrupts him.

"Edmund, does it really seem like we have time for this right now?"

"I guess not, no," he agrees, because he can hear rustling the trees surrounding them now. He drops his coat beside him and snatches the spear out of her hand. "But, I swear, Idun, if you make a break for it with your sword and let us die, I'll kill you."

"I'm not leaving you," she breaths as she crouches down beside him in a stance he recognizes as he one she adopts when she prepares to strike.

He can just make out eyes now, dozens of pairs of eyes, between the trees all around them. He thinks he's seen something like this before, maybe in a movie, back in the world where he was born, a movie he vaguely remembers seeing with—he feels his stomach drop, as if it was weighed down by guilt—Peter and Susan and Lucy at a theater in London sometime before they were evacuated. That seems like a lifetime ago, and, god, maybe it was.

The eyes belong to shadows now, huge shadows with shoulder blades that work as the beasts come closer. They are not going to make it out of this alive, Edmund realizes. He got Elsa all the way out of Narnia, all the way out of Jadis' grasp, only to be killed by wolves a week later. Maybe he'll see his siblings again, if he gets to go to heaven, that is. He would almost welcome the chance, if not for Elsa. He hugs her to him and he can feel her begin to whimper. No, he will not let them take Elsa without a fight. He tightens his grip on the spear.

All of a sudden, one of the wolves is bounding from the tree line, and Idun is charging forward, sword raised, and Elsa is absolutely wailing, and he is revolving on the spot, waiting for one of the wolves to come close enough that he can fight it off with what is essentially a sharpened stick. It's all very chaotic and he is losing track of what is happening. He backs up so he is very nearly standing on the embers, hoping that at least the smell of smoke might keep the wolves away from him. He would feel guilty for allowing Idun to fight alone, but he has Elsa to think about, and he realizes that this is why she insisted on keeping the sword. Because now at least she has a chance.

It happens in the blink of an eye. One minute, she is fighting a wolf back toward the trees with the sword, the next, another is colliding with her in midair. She is on the ground on her side, and he can hear the wolf snarl as it rips into the hides she's wearing. The others are approaching with interest from the perimeter of the clearing. He can see Idun through their legs, curling into a ball and trying to protect the back of her neck. He hears himself cry out her name. And then one of the wolves turns toward him. And then it's approaching him. He can feel Elsa shaking in his arms. He's squeezing her so tightly, he knows it must be painful, but he can't let go. He's doomed them both. The wolf is bearing its teeth, and he squeezes his eyes shut and waits to feel them sink in to his flesh, waits for the pain.

It doesn't come.

He counts to ten, and then, content that death is not imminent, at least not in the next minute, he opens his eyes. His mouth drops open.

He is standing on a solid sheet of ice. The wolf is suspended frozen, mid-jump, not six inches from his face. He backs up and nearly trips backwards over the pile of embers, now hard and unyielding. Six feet away, he can see the wolves posed like statues over the spot where Idun fell. Cautiously, he makes his way over. Through his fear and his confusion, he is vaguely grateful for his time spent in Narnia, that walking on ice is now second nature. He remembers a time just before Christmas, just before the war, when he'd gone ice skating with his family. Peter had made fun of his inability to stay upright for more than thirty seconds, and Susan had brushed him off and pulled Edmund to his feet again and again. Now he can almost sprint on it.

He slides to a stop, nearly colliding with one of the wolves in his haste. "Idun?" he cries. To his immense relief, he can see movement. The wolves haven't killed her, and neither has whatever was responsible for freezing their campsite. He can see blood though, matting the fur on her clothing and staining the ice. He sets Elsa down and crawls between the wolves to get a better look.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "What hurts?"

"I think…" she sounds a little disoriented, but she's struggling to sit up. "I'm fine?" He doesn't like that it's a question.

He glances through the wolves' legs, making sure he can still see Elsa standing there, before he turns back to Idun. He holds out a hand and she uses it to pull herself up. "Come on out," he tells her. "Let me have a look at you."

It takes her longer to emerge from the pile of wolves than it had taken Edmund to extricate himself, and normally that might be cause for some gloating, but she's just risked her life for them, and she's injured, and he has a little more tact than _that_. When she gets to her feet, he can see her knees shake, but she stands up straight, and he knows if he offers to let her sit, she'll only glare at him and shake her head, so he keeps him mouth shut.

There is blood dripping onto her left shoulder, and he moves around her body until he spots the beginnings of two large gashes across the side of her neck, and he's really, really, not sure how to tend to them, because they look deep, so he continues to assess the damage to the rest of her body. He removes the patched-together, fox-skin vest she is wearing and spots red stain blooming on her side.

"What caused this?" Idun wonders as he lifts her shirt so he can evaluate the wound. He is relieved that this one is shallow. He cannot see ribs.

"I don't know," he admits. "My first thought is that Jadis has found me. But I think if that were true, we'd know it by now." He glances over his shoulder at Elsa. "Keep an eye on her, will you?"

"Already am," Idun replies shortly.

"So there's nothing in this world that would do something like this?" he asks as he shifts his gaze to another bloodstain on her right thigh. There is a rip in the deerskin of her pants, and her pulls the material aside so he can see the wound.

"Not that I know of," she answers. "Maybe some sort of sorcerer, but there aren't any this powerful in the area. Not that I know of, at least. There's Cora, but she's pretty far down South. And the Dark One himself, obviously, but he never would have saved us. He probably would have just watched."

Edmund stands up. "The one on your neck is the only one that looks deep," he tells her. "This can't have just been a coincidence."

"Edmund." Idun's voice is suddenly urgent, her eyes wide. "I don't think it was."

"I don't either," Edmund answers. "That's what I'm saying—"

"No, Edmund," she interrupts. "Look." She raises her finger to point to his shoulder and he sees it. Two small, icy handprints where Elsa had been gripping him.

"You think," he shifts his gaze to his daughter, still standing on the ice, looking around like she is only vaguely interested in why there is snow falling when it was springtime only minutes ago. "She did this?"

"That's what it looks like," Idun murmurs, and he is forced to agree with her.

He sighs. "Maybe she has some of her mother in her after all."

* * *

"Civilization!" Anna cries when they spot the lights of the tavern in the distance, and Mulan is unsure if her companion is being sarcastic or if she should be concerned. "Can we go in? Please? We haven't eaten anything other than rabbit in like, months."

As much as Mulan wants to point out that they have only been traveling together for a week, she refrains. She has almost come to regard Anna's penchant for gross exaggeration as endearing. Almost.

_My parents used to call me a drama queen_, Anna had told her over breakfast two days ago. _Yeah right, like I'll ever be a queen_.

She nods wordlessly and Anna lets out a cry of triumph before making a break for the tiny building, or at least trying to. She trips after about five steps.

"Careful, Princess," Mulan mutters as she expertly steps over the offending root and offers her hand. Anna grudgingly takes it

"Show off."

"The path is as import as the destination." Mulan shrugs, causing her companion to roll her eyes.

"You did not just say that."

"It was a piece of advice commonly passed down from the elders in my village," Mulan replies, confused. "Did your kingdom not have elders to guide the younger generations? Phillip's didn't."

"Not exactly," Anna replies. They are close enough to the tavern to make out details now, a wilting plant on one of the window sills, a stone missing from the pathway outside, a pile of old boots, broken mugs, and rusted frying pans near the door. "The closest thing I had were advisors, and they only ever told me to chew with my mouth closed and remember my etiquette lessons and stop spending so much time in the stables."

"Right." Mulan nods in understanding. "Your stable boy."

"Right," Anna agrees, but she draws it out like she's not sure if that's actually the correct answer, and Mulan doesn't know why that would be.

She doesn't have time to consider it, because Anna pulls the door open with such force that Mulan has to leap to the side to avoid it hitting her in the face. "It was lighter than I expected," Anna offers in the way of explanation. "Now who's not paying attention?"

She chuckles as she enters the tavern and Mulan follows her. The sign over the bar dubs the place, The Golden Leprechaun. A small, grubby-looking woman in a low-cut dress mans the bar. Two men sit at opposite ends of the counter, one of them wearing a balaclava that Mulan might be suspicious of if she hadn't frequented establishments just like this during her travels, the other with thick red sideburns and a scar on his chin. In the far corner, three men sit around a table playing—

"Cards!" Anna cries. "Order me a mead and something that's not rabbit," she calls over her shoulder, already halfway across the room. Mulan rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and orders Anna a stew that she's pretty sure has chimera in it, despite the fact that they're not exactly common in this part of the Enchanted Forest.

"Hey!" she hears the man under the balaclava call. "You a soldier?"

"Not anymore," she answers, forcing herself not to roll her eyes because she's sure she knows exactly what's coming, and _this is all so very old_.

"Still," he replies. "You can capture me any day." And he is roaring with laughter, too inebriated to realize just how unoriginal that come-on is—really, she's been hearing that one since the army, since the men first discovered she was a woman. The bar maid slides two bowls and two glasses of mead across the counter. Mulan takes them and turns hard enough that the man gets a face full of her cape.

Anna has already made friends, she discovers, when she sits down beside her at the table. The men have rearranged their chairs to accommodate them, and she has already been dealt into the game.

"Mulan," Anna says as her companion pushes a bowl toward her. "This is Jonathan," she gestures to an older man who looks like he might have been attractive in his day, but now his face is grizzled and his hair is grey, "Cornelius," a small man with the lightest blond hair she thinks she's ever seen and glasses with one cracked lens, "And Flynn," by far the most put-together of the bunch, with a trimmed goatee, hair that Mulan is sure he spent longer styling than herself and Anna combined, and one of the stupidest top hats she thinks she's ever seen.

"Hi," Flynn says with a crooked half-smile that Mulan thinks probably makes him look very attractive to most women. She just thinks he looks ridiculous.

"Flynn," she nods politely.

"Want us to deal you in?" Anna asks through a mouthful of stew.

Mulan shakes her head. "No, I think I'd prefer to watch. Cards was never my game of choice." She remembers a particularly close call during a game of strip poker with the men in her unit, before anyone knew she was a woman.

"You don't even know what game we're playing," Anna points out, frowning.

Mulan shrugs. "Doesn't matter."

"Okay," Anna replies with that tone that tells Mulan quite clearly that she's storing the subject away to be brought up at a later time, probably at their next meal around a fire.

Jonathan deals Cornelius, Anna, and Flynn each two cards. "Hit me," Cornelius says.

"I call," Flynn adds. "So where are you ladies headed?"

"How do you know we're headed anywhere," Mulan asks.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Flynn replies, as Anna mutters, _hit me_. "Are you out for a girls' night in your armor? Not to mention," his eyes slide up and down her body, and it would make her feel uncomfortable if she wasn't remarkably used to it. "With armor like that, there's no way you're from around here."

"We're on our way to the Evil Queen's castle," Anna answers boldly as she throws a couple of coins into the pot. Mulan is about to tell her not to gamble away all of their money, but Anna preempts her with a look that says very clearly, _I know what I'm doing_.

"Ah," Flynn replies, his smile growing wider. "You're pillagers." He turns to Cornelius. "They're pillagers."

"We most certainly are not," Mulan argues.

Flynn holds up his hands, careful to keep his cards angled away. "Hey, I'm not judging. I just raided the Dark Castle myself."

"You raided the Dark Castle?" Anna's mouth drops open.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, carrot top, but it's not exactly like there's anyone there to guard it anymore," he answers.

"I was there not long ago," Mulan says, her interest peaked. "There weren't any treasures left. The Dark One must have found a way to take them with him when the curse swept him up."

"Treasures, no," Flynn replies. "But," he gives the rim of his hat a flick. "You know what they say about one man's trash."

"He should dispose of it before it consumes him," Mulan answers.

Anna turns to her. "Is that your way of saying it's bad to be a pack rat?"

Before Mulan has a chance to answer, Cornelius throws his cards down. "That's it. I'm out."

"Oh, come on," Flynn replies. "It's my last night in town. Live a little."

"You know damn well that was the last of my gambling money." Cornelius stands up. "If I cut into our budget, the missus will 'ave my 'ead."

"Alright, alright," Flynn answers. He mimes cracking a whip once Cornelius has turned to leave. Mulan rolls her eyes. He leans toward Anna. "So, carrot top, ready to go one-on-one with a pro?"

Anna gives Mulan a sideways glance before answering. "I think I can manage."

Two glasses of mead later, Flynn's face is as red as Mulan's cape. The man with the scar is long gone, the man in the balaclava is asleep on the counter top, and Anna has taken her rival for nearly all he has.

"Where did you learn to play like this?" he is gasping as he searches his pockets for one more coin.

Anna shrugs. "Around. What about you? Whoever taught you wasn't very good. I'd," she waggles her eyebrows, "get your money back."

"Okay, okay, wait a minute." He takes the hat from his head and throws it down on the table. "Straight from Rumplestiltskin's castle. What's that worth?"

Mulan wrinkles her nose. "Is this a joke?"

"No, I like it," Anna answers. "Fine." She drops a handful of coins onto the table, and Jonathan deals another hand.

"Hit me," Flynn mutters. Anna calls. Jonathan lays the card down and Anna squeals with delight. She snatches the hat from the table and shoves it onto her head.

"Well?" she asks, turning to Mulan. "How do I look?"

"Like the Mad Hatter," Mulan answers dryly.

"He visited with my parents once," Anna recalls offhandedly. "He did have a way with style." She turns back to Flynn. "Anything else you're willing to lose?"

"One more round," Flynn replies, reaching into his bag. "All or nothing."

"And what are you offering?" Anna asks, raising an eyebrow.

"This." He pulls a shoe out of his satchel and places it in the center of the table. It's clear, like it's made of glass or—

"Crystal," Mulan murmurs. She remembers the legend. A crystal pair to match the ruby. She'd never believed it, of course, but…

"What is it?" Anna asks. "A shoe?"

"No idea," Flynn leans back in his chair. "But the Dark One held on to it. Must be worth something."

"But not enough for him to take with him," Anna points out. Flynn shrugs.

"Anna, I think you should do it," Mulan says. It's almost a whisper, but Anna hears it.

"Okay, then," she says, like she doesn't need telling twice. "All or nothing."

* * *

The walk from Granny's Diner back to the pawn shop is the longest she can ever remember it being. It doesn't help that she and Emma don't say a word to each other until they're less than a block away.

"Regina." Emma stops in the middle of the sidewalk so quickly that Regina nearly collides with her.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" It takes nearly all the willpower she possesses to refrain from adding _Miss Swan_ at the end.

"Before we get back to Gold's, we need to talk." Her hands are buried as deep in her pockets as they'll go, and she's looking everywhere except at Regina.

She raises an eyebrow. "About?"

"Well," Emma answers slowly, and Regina wants to tell her to spit it out already, but she's still trying to keep her words with Emma Swan to as few as possible, so she settles for tapping her foot impatiently on the pavement. "I figure, if we're going to be wandering around together in some unknown realm… again… it might be nice if we were… well, speaking to each other."

"And why would we need to do that?" In reality, Regina can't deny that Emma has a point. She'll have to get over this newest betrayal, because they'll have to work together, but this is Emma, so of course, she's not going to admit that.

"Can you imagine what it would have been like in Neverland if we hadn't been on civil terms?" Emma asks.

"Because that was practically a vacation," she answers, but there's less venom in her voice than she would like.

Emma sighs and shifts her weight onto her left foot. "You know what I mean, Regina. Do you really think we'd have made it out alive?"

Regina sighs too, because she's done playing devil's advocate. She is out of arguments anyway. "I suppose you're right."

"Seriously?" Emma's eyebrows shoot up. "You're giving in that easily?"

"I've known this was coming," Regina admits. "I was just hoping I would get to tie you to a tree in Narnia and pretend to leave you for dead first."

"Touching," Emma comments. "So we're okay."

"We are not okay," Regina disagrees, pauses. "But we can work together."

"This time yesterday, we were almost friends," Emma reminds her, and there is something barely detectable in her voice that sounds suspiciously like sadness. Sadness for the loss of the Evil Queen's friendship. The idea is laughable.

"We were allies," she replies, because _friends_ is a word she's just not ready for. Not when the daughter of Snow White is concerned. "And then you betrayed me." _Just like anyone else I've ever trusted_. She begins to walk again.

"We're still allies," Emma calls from behind her, but she doesn't turn around, and a few moments later, she hears Emma sigh and follow her.

"Good," Snow says as the bell dings overhead and they cross the threshold. "You're back." She is wielding a bow that probably came from one of the Merry Men and wearing a peacoat that everyone knows won't be warm enough for Narnia. It strikes Regina, not for the first time, how big an oversight it was when she cursed them all to Maine, but didn't think to equip anyone, including herself, with proper winter wear. Ruby is at Snow's side, practically radiating resent in Regina's general direction.

"Is this it? Are we leaving?" Elsa is standing behind the counter, holding a maroon jacket that Regina is fairly certain belongs to Belle loosely at her side.

"Before you all depart," Rumplestiltskin sweeps out from the back room as smoothly as can be done when one has a heavy limp, "I'd like a word with Her Majesty."

She can see Snow and Ruby narrow their eyes. At her side, she is positive Emma is doing the same. Ignoring them, she strides across the shop and allows herself to be ushered into the office.

"To what do I owe this… surprise?" she asks as she turns to face him. He pulls the door closed and meets her eyes.

"A warning," he answers simply.

"How very thoughtful."

He nods, as if the sarcasm is expected, which, she realizes, it probably is. "It's important."

"I'm sure it is," she replies. "Or you wouldn't be wasting my time." This is one thing she and Rumplestiltskin have always seen eye-to-eye on, that time is a commodity. And that there's no use telling someone something they don't need to know.

"Jadis is extraordinarily powerful—" he begins.

"So you've mentioned."

He ignores the interruption. "She cast an enchantment over Narnia. She can sense magic that doesn't originate from her. She will know immediately upon seeing you, dearie, that you are, by far the most powerful in your little…" his eyes flit toward the door, "travel party."

"And?" Her voice is sharp, urgent.

"And if she views you as the threat, she will try to take you out," he answers. "Your absence would make the group much more manageable."

"Of course," she replies, because it makes sense. In fact, it's a move she has pulled many times, herself. If she could only count the number of brave knights who jumped from the tower in the dead of night or Princes who suddenly fell ill and had to be whisked back to their own kingdoms. Eliminate the greatest threat. It is one of the most basic rules if one wants to hold power.

"If she decides to take you out," he continues. "She will succeed. One-on-one, your magic is no match for hers."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Regina comments. "You're telling me I'm walking into certain death?" It is really more of a statement.

He holds up a finger. "Almost certain death, dearie. It's an important distinction."

"Then why should I even go?" she asks. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't walk back out there and tell everyone I've changed my mind and I'm staying here with my son."

"Because you were right about one thing." He sighs, like he doesn't quite want to admit it. "Without you, they don't stand a chance."

* * *

A/N: So, in between this chapter and the last chapter, I reworked my entire outline, because, honestly, I kind of felt like the characters didn't have enough to do, so you should be getting more regular action/ plot advancement in upcoming installments. Anyway, that's why you all waited two weeks for this chapter. I had to rework three plotlines.

Please, please, please review if you have the time. I'm not going to extort reviews out of you by intentionally withholding updates or anything like that, because my personal opinion is that that's kind of a dick move, and ultimately I do this for fun, but I'm also not going to pretend there's not a correlation between the number of reviews I get and how quickly I update. Reviews are just about the best motivator a fanfiction writer can have. If you like something or you don't like something, tell me. There's no way for me to know otherwise.

Anyway, see you all at the next update!


	6. Chapter 5

Warning for a semi-graphic horror scene at the end of the chapter

* * *

"This place reminds me of Alaska," Emma comments almost as soon as they have all stepped through the wardrobe. "Other than coats hanging from trees thing, of course." She turns back to wear they came through.

"When were you in Alaska?" Snow asks, turning toward her daughter and furrowing her brow.

"I spent some time in Juneau," Emma shrugs. "Between Portland and New Orleans."

"This place is nothing like Alaska," Regina mutters. "The trees are _coated_ in magic." She already feel it, an insistent tingling in her fingertips, and see it in the unnatural sparkle of the snow.

"Well?" Ruby asks, already fishing the vibrant, red cloak out of the bag that hangs at her waste and pulling it over her shoulders. Anyone will be able to spot them a mile off with her wearing that fluorescent thing, and Regina makes a mental note to assure she removes if they need to be stealthy. "Now what?"

"Now we find Jadis," Snow replies as if it's the easiest task in the world.

Emma raises her eyebrows. "Any idea where she might be? Somehow I don't think we're going to be able to look her address up in the phone book."

"The mountains." Elsa speaks for the first time since they arrive. She is staring off into the distance, where Regina can just make out a mountain range through the falling snow.

"How do you know?" Ruby asks, a hint of awe in her voice.

Elsa shrugs. "That's where I'd build a castle."

"It's more defensible," Regina elaborates. "You can see what's coming. I'd have thought you'd be well-versed in," she wrinkles her nose, "castle defense by now, dear. How many have you broken into?"

Ruby narrows her eyes. Elsa looks alarmed. "Are you a bandit?"

"A revolutionary," she answers through gritted teeth.

"Call it what you want, dear," Regina replies. "But you broke and entered, and then you robbed. That sounds awfully like banditry to me."

"It's settled then," Emma states, louder than is probably necessary. "We're heading for the mountains." She turns and begins to walk in a way that Regina is certain is supposed to be dramatic, but the effect is somewhat lessened when she promptly face-plants into the snow.

"Emma, are you okay?" Snow exclaims, leaping forward to help her daughter pull herself back to her feet.

"Yeah," Emma replies as she brushes herself off. "It's just… deeper than I thought. And colder."

"Perhaps I should lead," Elsa says. The rest of them stare as she turns with a swish of her cape and embarks through the snow as if it's not there at all, as if she's been doing it her entire life, which Regina knows is not true, because snow is relatively uncommon in the Enchanted Forest, even in the northern kingdoms.

"Alright then," Ruby says after a beat as she moves to follow. Regina falls into step behind her, and Snow and Emma bring up the rear.

They have barely been walking for an hour when Regina hears Emma's teeth begin to chatter. That's what she gets for wearing something as impractical as a leather jacket into a world that's eternally winter. At least she had the good sense to bring boots, though, Regina realizes, those may or may not be the only shoes the woman owns, so she is not sure that's a testament to Emma's intelligence as much as the size of her closet.

"Maybe we should stop," Snow calls from behind her.

"Why?" Regina asks. "So we can freeze to death sitting down instead of standing up?"

"I mean, maybe we should think about doing some hunting," Snow replies. "For animals with hides we can make cloaks out of."

"I am not killing animals for their skin," Emma argues.

"You're wearing a leather jacket, dear," Regina calls over her shoulder.

Emma groans. "It's different when I don't have to kill and skin them myself."

"That's okay," Snow replies. "I'll skin them. You can just watch." As if it's a perfectly reasonable compromise.

"No," Emma answers firmly.

"Well, then we should at least build a fire," Snow says.

"And loose what precious daylight we have left?"

"Regina," she argues. "How far do you really think we're going to get in the next half-hour. We can barely move."

"Are we stopping?" Ruby calls from up ahead. "Hold on, Elsa. I think we're stopping."

"No," Regina calls back, at the same time as Snow answers, "Yes."

"We can't stop while it's still light," Regina argues, lowering her voice. "Something could find us."

"What's going to find us, Regina?" Snow asks. "The only signs of life we've seen since we got here are these little white butterflies everywhere. Besides," she suddenly becomes very quiet, "look at her."

Regina turns toward them. Emma's hands and fisted and shoved tightly into her armpits. She's hunched over like standing up is causing her physical pain. Snow's arms are wrapped around her like a blanket, but her lips are taking on a purple-ish hue nonetheless. "Stop!" Regina calls in Ruby's general direction.

"Thank you," Snow whispers.

"I'm not doing it for you," Regina mutters. "Do you think Henry would ever forgive me if I let her die out here?"

"Still." Snow has _that_ look on her face, that soft, almost condescending smile, like she thinks she understands something that Regina doesn't. Regina rolls her eyes.

"What's going on?" Elsa is asking as she and Ruby approach the group. "It's not even that cold." She looks around at Emma, shivering into her mother's side, Snow in her pink peacoat, her cheeks and nose violently red, Ruby, holding her cloak closed as close around her face as possible, and finally Regina, her own hands shoved into her pockets. She is certain she looks cold, as hard as she's trying not to. "Is it?"

"It's just a little frigid," Ruby replies, studying Elsa with a furrowed brow, studying her like there is something wrong with her. Regina can hardly blame the girl. Between Elsa's exposed shoulders and the fact that her dress looks like if it was any thinner it would be see-through, it's a wonder she hasn't frozen solid.

"We're building a fire," Regina tells them. "I can light it with magic, but I need dry sticks. As many as you can find."

Ruby stares at her for a moment, probably deciding whether to take the order without a fight, but then she glances at Emma and sighs. "Okay."

She turns as fast on her heel as she is able to in the snow, and her cape nearly hits Regina as it follows her, which Regina suspects is what she was going for. She retreats toward the forest. Elsa eyes Regina one last time, and then follows her.

* * *

When Edmund gets to the bakery, the door is already unlocked. He knows the baker is gone. He watched him leave nearly an hour ago. Unless he came back, that is.

He pushes on the door, and it swings open. "Hello?"

He can hear rattling coming from the back room, but no one answers. Light peaks through the cracks between the door and the frame. He makes his way to the counter, careful not to bump against anything that might make a sound in the cluttered, little shop, and hoists himself over it. The shelf is emptier than it was earlier, when he was staking out the place, but there are still a couple of loaves of bread to choose from. He selects one that looks big enough to feed three people for at least two meals and doesn't feel too hard yet, and shoves it down the front of his shirt, arranging it so that it hopefully looks like a roll of fat.

"Who are you?"

He turns so quickly he nearly falls over. The door to the back room is open, and a woman with unruly black hair and piercing green eyes, wearing a dress that is ornate, despite the fact that it looks hand-sewn, is standing in front of it. "Who are you?" she repeats.

"Oh," Edmund answers. "I was just… looking for the baker. I didn't have time to buy my bread this morning, and I was hoping he would still be here so my family could have some for dinner tonight." It is a rehearsed story, one that he and Idun had prepared to be universal, so they would be able to use it in any shop they might be caught breaking into.

The woman raises an eyebrow. "So you just thought you'd climb behind the counter to, what, make sure he wasn't hiding in the cabinets?"

"Oh, umm… no," Edmund replies, thoughts on how to salvage the situation racing through his head. He remembers Idun and Elsa waiting at the campsite. He can't go down for this.

"Well, the baker left over an hour ago." The woman smiles at him in much the same way Edmund imagines a cat would smile at a goldfish. "I know because I was watching." She reaches into the purple shawl tied around her waist and pulls out a roll. "I have ten more just like it," she explains as she tosses it to him.

Edmund sighs in relief. "I thought you were going to arrest me."

"Oh, trust me." The woman laughs. "If I tried to turn you in, _I _would be arrested before anyone even noticed you were there." She considers him for a moment before speaking again. "My name is Esmeralda."

"Edmund," he replies with a nod of the head.

"Well, Edmund," she says. "I haven't seen you in town before."

He shrugs. "We travel around. This is our second night here."

"What a coincidence," Esmeralda exclaims. "We travel too. Of course, we usually stay put for a little bit longer than two nights. So where are you camped?" She laughs again when Edmund narrows his eyes. "Come on, I'm not going to steal your food in the night. We have more than enough."

He sucks on his bottom lip for a moment, while deciding whether or not to answer. Idun will, of course, be furious if she finds out he's told a stranger their location, so much so that she might insist they move. Then again, Idun's not exactly quick to trust. He has no idea how long it would have taken her to warm up to him if he hadn't rescued her that first day. And Esmeralda did just give him a roll, so she can't be starving, unless it was a ploy to gain his trust. In the end, he throws caution to the wind. "We're back behind the tannery." He can almost hear Susan's exasperated voice in his head. _This is why you're always getting yourself into trouble, Ed. You need to be more careful._

"Oh," Esmeralda drops her eyes in thought. "We looked at that spot, but it wasn't big enough, and we thought it was too close to the road. If the King's guard walked past…" She runs a finger across her throat and gags dramatically. "We're over past the granary."

That catches his attention. "Wasn't big enough? You could build a house in that clearing. How many people are you with?"

"About thirty." She shrugs. "Just my family."

"_Just_ your family?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Well, we're not all _related_, strictly speaking, but we're family." She grabs his forearm and begins to pull him toward the door. "Come on. I'll show you."

"Wait." He wrenches his arm out of her hand. "I can't. I have to get back to _my_ family."

"Oh, right." She prods the loaf of bread under his shirt. "So they can have bread for dinner, right?"

"Right," he answers. "My… travelling companion, she's probably already devising a plan to break me out of jail as we speak."

"I see." She wrinkles her eyebrows, like she's mulling over some serious problem, but she's still smiling. "Well, you really shouldn't stay put. If you build a fire, they'll be able to see you from the road, and the next thing you know, you'll have soldiers tearing your camp apart in the small hours looking for fugitives." She rolls her eyes. "You know how they get. Everyone's got to be harboring someone illegally. You're welcome to stay with us. You and your… companion."

"I'll discuss it with her," Edmund sighs, knowing full well that there is absolutely no way Idun will agree to stay in a campsite full of strangers.

"Do," Esmeralda replies. She turns to go. "Maybe I'll see you later," she calls over her shoulder as the door swings closed behind her.

* * *

She isn't three steps out of the pub when they grab her. Behind her, she can hear Anna gasp, loud and strangled, but at least it isn't a scream. Mulan shoves her companion back through the door as hard as she can while trying not to be dragged in the opposite direction by… how many pairs of hands? Two? Three?

She stamps on a foot and hears someone swear. One of the hands lets go of her, and it gives her enough room to reach across her body, find the hilt of her sword, and draw it. It immediately finds flesh, and someone cries out in a mixture of pain and rage.

"She's got her sword," a voice calls.

"Idiot," someone else replies. "You were supposed to get that from her first thing."

The hands are loosening, and then letting go of her, and she would make a run for it, but Anna is back in the pub. She won't leave her, but she doubts Anna's ability to outrun—she counts the shapes—four men in the forest at night.

In the darkness, she can just make out the faces. One of them looks familiar. It's the man with the ginger sideburns and long scar from the bar, she realizes. The man beside him, equally bulky in size and identical in nearly every other way, is wearing an eye patch. There are two other men that Mulan has never seen before. Both are smaller. Both are also wielding large machetes. The man with the eye patch is bleeding. The stain is crawling across the side of his shirt, but he no longer seems to notice. He draws a long, curved sword from his belt. To his left, his doppelganger does the same.

Mulan is good with a sword, some people would even say an expert, but part of being an expert is being aware of your limits. Mulan is outmatched and she knows it. If all of these men are even sort of competent with their weapons, she can't win this fight. What she can do is draw them away from the pub so that Anna has a chance to escape. She's made enough winnings tonight to buy a ride to the Queen's castle. She doesn't really need Mulan anymore anyway.

So she swings her sword and hears the familiar clank of steel on steel, feels the vibrations from the impact up her arm. If she dies tonight, at least she'll die on her own terms, with dignity, defending a princess, just like she was always meant to. She just didn't think it would be this princess.

Their swords sound like chimes, and she is twisting and turning and jabbing and dodging. She's been hit more than once, but that's the advantage of wearing armor, she supposes. All she has to show for it is a stinging cut just above her left eye. They're converging on her, pushing her toward the forest, and she knows it's almost over. Once they're in the trees, she won't be able to see them well enough to continue fighting.

Her calf hits a log and she tumbles backwards over it. The back of her head hits something hard—a rock maybe?—and stars cloud her vision. Someone steps on her hand, the tread of their boot digging into her wrist, and she feels her sword being wrenched from her grip. Something rustles in the bushes nearby. The world comes back into focus just in time for her to see the man with the scar, blood now tickling down the side of his neck, reach inside her satchel and pull out the slipper. He tucks it into his own bag with a grunt of satisfaction and continues to rummage.

"Where's the winnings?" he asks sharply after a moment. "Your pretty little partner have them?"

"That was the winnings," Mulan replies in a voice she hopes sounds earnest.

"Liar!" he replies, and the man standing above her increases the pressure to her wrist.

"It was!" she insists. "That was all of it. We started losing after _you_," she nods her head at the man with the scar, "left the bar. The shoe is all we got. I swear on my oath."

The man with the eye patch rounds on him. "You said she'd be loaded."

"She was supposed to be," he protests. "Rider didn't have a penny. If he did, he would have gone to the inn and gotten his room back instead of falling asleep in the alley over there."

"You hear that?" The eye patch man is looking at her again. "You are lying to us." The boot presses down on her wrist so hard it goes numb, and then there is a sickening crack, following by a shooting pain up her arm.

"I'm not lying," she insists, pushing through a wave of nausea. She is pretty sure they're going to go back and look for Anna, but she'll be damned if she's going to confirm their suspicions voluntarily. She can only hope her companion took the opportunity to escape.

"What now?" the other man asks. Mulan had almost forgotten he was even there. "Should we send someone back for her?"

"Nah," the man with the scar answers, to her overwhelming relief. "She's long gone by now." He turns to Mulan. "She didn't wait for you."

The man with the boot on her wrist nods down at her. "What do we do with her."

"Take her with us," the man with the eye patch orders with a wolfish smile. "She can be a consolation prize."

"We should move out," the other man suggests to murmurs of agreement from the other three. "We'll go ahead and set up camp. You," he turns to the man pinning her down, "get her." The foot disappears from her wrist, and a pair of arms snake themselves under her armpits. She is being dragged.

Mulan is not exactly sure how far he takes her, but the footsteps of the other three men become more and more distant as they march ahead, and soon, the only things she can hear are the rustling of leaves and the snapping of twigs as she is pulled over them, and the breathing of the man dragging her. She can feel it, hot and stale, on her neck.

Then there is a new sound. It's loud and full and metallic. The arms around her chest retract and she falls to the ground. The man drops with a thunk beside her.

"Mulan?" Anna cries. A pair of shoes, black with a heel and covered in rosemaling, come to a stop in front of her, and Anna is pulling her up. "Are you okay."

"I'm sure I will be." She looks around. There is no sign of anyone else. Not yet, at least. "They probably heard that. We need to get out of here. What did you hit him with anyway?" Her eyes come to a stop at Anna's right hand. She is gripping a rusted frying pan so hard that her knuckles are white. She raises her eyebrows. "A frying pan? Really?"

"There wasn't a lot to choose from," Anna answers defensively. "And it worked, didn't it?"

"Why didn't you run?" Mulan asks.

Anna frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Why didn't you run?" she repeats. "They were gone. I was hoping you would."

"And leave you?" Anna's question is soft. "I wouldn't do that."

"You were supposed to save yourself," Mulan says, bracing herself against a tree to stand.

"But we're partners." Anna rushes to pull her companion's arm over her shoulder. Another jolt of pain shoot through her body.

Mulan grimaces. "The other one."

"Oh, sorry." Anna drops it, none to gently, and rushes to the other side. "Partners don't leave each other."

Mulan is familiar with the concept. Phillip never would have left her. Aurora wouldn't have either, much to her own dismay. And she certainly wouldn't have dreamed of leaving either of them. She just hadn't considered Anna a partner. A travelling companion, but not a partner. Not until now, at least.

"I left my sword back there." She nods back in the direction of the pub. "It landed in a clump of bushes, I think."

"Let's go find it," Anna replies resolutely, and Mulan is thankful that she's skimmed past what exactly Mulan meant by _left_. "I think you're right anyway. We should get out of here." She nods at the man lying unconscious on the ground. "It's not going to take them long to realize he's not bring you."

Mulan agrees. "And they'll be waiting for us pretty anxiously."

* * *

Edmund is not surprised to find Idun less than receptive toward the idea of sleeping in a camp full of strangers.

"They could rob us in the middle of the night," she says as she pounds a stake into the ground with all the rage of a child being sent to bed without dinner. "They could take Elsa."

"Why would they take Elsa?" He turns to his daughter, toddling shakily toward their own shelter, the one he's already set up. She's still awkward in her walking, but she's improving at a rapid pace, and they've both lamented that she was much easier to handle when all she could do was stand in one place. "That's just one more mouth to feed."

"She's blond," Idun answers, as casually as if she was explaining a particularly difficult math problem. "They could sell her."

"They're not going to sell her," Edmund insists. "Come on. We'll go. We'll spend one night. We'll sleep with all of our possessions under our heads. If you don't like it, we'll move on tomorrow."

Idun stops pounding on the stake, and he can see her shoulders sag. "Come on," he continues. "She was right about this spot anyway. If any soldiers come by, they'll be able to see our fire from the road."

"No one comes this way," Idun argues. It's the same logic she used to rationalize setting up here in the first place.

Edmund crosses his arms. "Are you willing to bet your life on that? We murdered three guards. I'd be surprised if they don't have orders to kill you on sight."

"And anyone travelling with me." She sighs. "You're right." She sounds defeated, and he can't blame her. It's been a rough week. The presence of soldiers in the towns they've past through has made stealing any food impractical, and Elsa gets the largest portion of anything they catch, so neither of them has eaten properly in at least five days. "Staying here is riskier than spending one night with these… people."

"Great," Edmund says with a nod. "So I'll pack up my stuff, and we'll go."

She shakes her head. "I can't believe you told her where we were. That's the one thing I told you not to do when you go into town."

"You also told me not to get arrested," he points out.

"Yes," she replies. "But that really should have gone without saying."

"She gave me bread, Idun," he explains. "Some of her bread. And she was nice." And, as he quickly learned upon arriving in the Enchanted Forest, no one is nice to homeless people.

"And she was pretty, I'm sure," Idun snaps.

Edmund groans. "She was, but that's completely beside the point."

"Oh, is it?" she asks in feigned surprise.

"She seemed trustworthy, alright?"

"Because you have a long history of trusting all the right people."

The silence is deadening.

Finally, Idun sighs, deflates. "I shouldn't have said that."

"I'm glad you did," he mutters. "It's good to know you don't trust my ability to judge other people."

"Don't take it too personally," she replies quietly. "I don't trust anyone's ability to judge other people. I don't even trust my own ability. Why do you think I was travelling alone?"

Edmund shrugs. "Honestly, I thought you just hated everyone."

Idun laughs, and for a second, it rings in Edmund's ears and he thinks it must be the most beautiful sound he's ever heard, and then it turns bitter. "I've just learned that it's better not to take chances. A family offers to let you ride with them in their cart, and then you wake up the next morning and your food and all your spare clothes gone. A group of boys on their way to join the army tell you they'll protect you if you travel with them, and then you find out their protection comes with a price. In my experience, accepting offers only leads to trouble."

"Well," Edmund says as he dismantles his shelter. "I accepted your offer and I'm still alive. And I still have all my clothes."

"Oh, I thought about taking them while you were asleep that first night." He can tell by the tone of her voice that she is smiling again. "But they didn't fit me at all."

* * *

She is running through the woods. It is wolfs time, and she hasn't been able to run in what feels like forever. She can't tell whether she is in the Enchanted Forest or the woods surrounding Storybrooke, but the wind ripples through her fur, and the air smells fresh, like spring. She can hear the crickets singing, and the owls hoot their approval as she passes under their perches in the trees. She can't believe she ever dreaded the full moon, because now she lives for the nights that she can set off into the forest without a care in the world. Despite all the anguish her condition has caused, it is here that she truly feels at peace with herself.

She picks up on a scent. It's metallic and vaguely familiar, like maybe she smelled it before when she was very young or during a dream. She lowers her nose to the ground and begins to follow the trail. The scent becomes more and more pungent as she walks. The woodland creatures become more and more silent. By the time she reaches the edge of the clearing, the crickets are gone and the only sign of birds present anywhere in the area is one shooting out of a tree somewhere in the distance.

She doesn't see it until she is nearly on top of it. It's a body, and it's absolutely mutilated. She yelps and jumps back, and that's when she realizes that she recognizes it.

It's Belle.

She turns to run back the way she came, but there, lying across the path that leads back into the trees, blood soaking into the grass, is Granny. The trees seem to be looming over her, their branches growing more and more expansive, blocking out the moon. She turns again, unable to look any longer, and spread out right in front of her, staring straight ahead like his eyes are made of glass, entrails piled on either side of him, lies Peter. That's when she tastes it. The blood in her mouth. The flesh in her teeth.

She feels like something is constricting her chest. She tries to draw breath, but it doesn't make it to her lungs. Ruby wakes up screaming.

She has always enjoyed playing in the ballroom. It has the highest ceiling of any room in the castle. She could lay on the ground all night and watch the snow dance to the floor from that ceiling if she didn't have to be up in the morning. She clasps her hands together and concentrates on forming a cluster of energy. Then, she aims it upward and lets go. Moments later, snowflakes tickle her nose. The ceiling seems higher today. She can barely make out the mural of the goddess riding the polar bear.

"Snow!"

She hears the patter of footsteps, and Anna is plopping down beside her, with the grace of the six-year-old she is. Elsa's body, long at sixteen, and just starting to fill itself out, dwarfs her tiny one. They lay in silence for a minute, which is longer than Elsa expected, and then Anna is tapping her insistently in the ribs.

"Elsa. Hey, Elsa."

"Hmm?" Elsa asks, arching an eyebrow.

"You know what would be fun?" Anna lowers her voice and looks at her older sister conspiratorially. "Do you want to build a snowman?"

Elsa rolls her eyes, but she can't help smiling. "Okay, Anna. Fine."

"Yes!" Anna throws her fists into the air and beams at Elsa, revealing two holes where her front teeth should be. "Do the magic!"

"Keep it down," Elsa whispers. "Mama and Papa are asleep."

"Sorry," Anna replies, her smile drooping just a little. One of Elsa's favorite things about her sister is that she is always so genuine. "Do the magic," she repeats in a whisper.

Elsa laughs, the sound echoing through the hall and making her a complete hypocrite. "Better. Okay, you ready?"

Anna nods eagerly and Elsa balls her hands together, growing the energy between them until she is holding a bright, white-blue light. Anna oohs and ahhs and claps, and Elsa loves her enthusiasm. She grow the energy to about the size of a melon and then stops it. Or tries to stop it.

It's not stopping.

Anna is laughing, completely oblivious to the fact that Elsa is losing control.

"Anna, run!"

"What?"

"Run!" Elsa cries, the cluster of energy rapidly approaching the size of a cart wheel. "Like tag!"

"But you said we were going to build a snow man!" Anna is pouting, and this is completely the wrong time for her sister to decide to be stubborn.

"We will, Anna! I promise we will, but right now, I really need you to run!" She is begging. Tears are streaming down her cheeks.

Her ball of energy explodes with an anticlimactic pop. She stumbles backwards, and catches herself with her hands.

"Anna!" she cries, pushing herself to her feet. "Are you okay? Anna?"

There is no answer, and as soon as she looks up, she knows why. Her sister is there, right where she left her, newly glistening and translucent, her pout immortalized in ice.

She feels like something is constricting her chest. She tries to draw breath, but it doesn't make it to her lungs. Elsa wakes up screaming.

She has always loved a good heist. Maybe it's because she's a thrill seeker, maybe it's because she does want just a little bit of vengeance against the person who cast her out of her own kingdom, even if she'll never admit that to her fiancé.

That's why she's happier than she's been in a long time as she creeps through the corridors in the castle. She can't place which one it is, exactly. It almost looks like a mix of the one she grew up in and the austere one Regina build up in the mountains, with maybe a little bit of Charming's adoptive father's castle thrown in for good measure. All of that is beside the point though, because she knows exactly where she's going and how to get there. And she knows that her major obstacle will be the sphinx guarding the door. Where Regina got a sphinx is a question for another day, because they're not exactly native to the Enchanted Forest, and they're also generally too smart to be held in captivity. It would be like trying to keep a person as a pet, which, come to think of it, Regina has actually done.

She shrugs the question off and prepares to make her next move. She pokes her head around the corner. There are two guards approaching, so she readies her bow and ducks under the threshold of a doorway until they pass. She waits until their footstep die away, and then inches toward the corner again. The coast is clear this time, and she cannot hear anyone else approaching, so she turns down the corridor.

There are windows overlooking a large hall that would be grand and stately if not for the large stake protruding from the floor and the bales of hay piled around it. That will be where Regina conducts her executions.

Someone enters the hall below from the corridor on the far end. Someone else follows, and she realizes she's watching a procession. Five very official-looking men file into the hall before the prisoner is dragged in, and she gasps and places her hand against the wall to steady herself.

It's Charming.

She watches as he is tied to the stake. She watches as Regina enters and is handed a bow and arrow. She watches as Regina, with a grin that she could only describe as evil plastered across her face, raises the bow and pulls the arrow back. She watches as the arrow is lit on fire. She watches as it strikes the hay. She watches, helpless to do anything, as Charming is engulfed in flames. She watches and she hears his screams.

She feels like something is constricting her chest. She tries to draw breath, but it doesn't make it to her lungs. Snow wakes up screaming.

It's been a long time since she took her son camping. He'd been reluctant to spend any quality time with her for a year even before that insufferable woman showed up. Part of her, a big part, still can't believe this is even happening, but here he is. He's strong enough to carry his own backpack and sleeping bag now, which means they can hike further into the woods, and she has taken advantage of the opportunity. She's had this exact location in mind for a week, ever since Henry suggested to her that they go.

They couldn't have picked a more beautiful weekend either. The sun is out, the temperature is a pleasant sixty-five degrees, and when she checked the radar this morning, it had shown clear weather punctuated only by a few light showers for the next three days.

"Just a little further," she calls to Henry. He is running ahead, like he always has, darting across her path to see what's over that hill or get a closer look at the fossil in that rock.

"Got it, Mom," he replies, and she smiles. That is one thing she has always had over Emma Swan. No matter how much Henry hated her, no matter how many times he called her evil, she has always been _Mom_.

"We'll pitch our tent just right between those trees over there," she tells him. They've made it just in time. The sky is beginning to look a little dark, and if one of those light showers is about to hit, she would prefer that they have shelter.

She tugs the bag off her shoulders and puts Henry to work assembling the frame. They have the tent up in less than fifteen minutes, but not before she feels the first drop of rain hit her scalp.

"Get in," she tells him. "We'll set everything else up after the rain ends." Of course, she could put a force field over their entire campsite, and they would be able to carry on as usual, but Henry still frowns on the use of magic when it isn't necessary, and she doesn't want to do anything to jeopardize the possibility of him wanting to go camping with her again.

It's muggy in the tent, but what else is new, really. They can hear the soft pitter patter of raindrops hitting the canvas. Henry is unrolling his sleeping bag.

"So, how's school?" she asks.

He shrugs. "It's school." Gone are the days when that one question prompted a forty-five minute lecture on everything he'd learned that day about reptiles or outer space or Ancient Egypt, but, she tells herself, she is raising a teenager now. Henry completed eighth grade in New York, so he is starting his first year at Storybrooke High.

"You have to remember," she replies. "I didn't go to school. That answer means nothing to me."

"I don't know," Henry says, a hint of annoyance detectable in his voice. "It's normal. I go to class. I eat lunch. I go to class. I come home."

"Any girls on the horizon?"

"_Mom!_"

She smirks as she pulls back the rain flap to check the sky. It is much darker now, with a slightly green tint. _Light showers, my ass_, and there is something on the horizon that she can't quite make out. "It's okay," she tells him. "You'll want to talk to me about this stuff eventually." _Unless you talk to Emma about it instead_, she thinks, but she doesn't say it. "If you ever do bring home a girl, I promise not to pull out her heart, even if you do choose to date beneath your class."

"Gee, thanks, Mom," Henry answers dryly.

But she isn't listening anymore, because she's just realized what that thing on the horizon is. "Henry, get out of the tent."

"But it's wet out there," he complains.

"Get out of the tent now." She is standing up, unzipping the flap, and already kicking herself for not anticipating this, though how could she? When was the last time there was a tornado in Maine?

She takes him by the forearm and hurries down the hill into a valley. "Get down." She orders. "Stay down."

But there is a crack of thunder, a flash of lighting so bright it is nearly blinding, and Zelena is standing there, skin glowing eerily in the muted light, the epicenter of the storm. Regina feels a powerful gust of window, but, for some reason, it is not pulling on her at all. It doesn't seem to affect her half-sister. The same is not true for Henry.

"Mom!" he cries as he skids backward across the forest floor, clawing at the ground for anything to hold on to.

"Henry!" she shrieks, but somehow she is being pulled in the other direction. She reaches out her hand to cast a force field, but she can't summon any magic. Their fingertips brush.

And then, Zelena's hand is in his chest. And then he is choking, the light disappearing from his eye. And then he is lying face down on the forest floor.

And with a cackle that rings through the trees, Zelena is gone.

She feels like something is constricting her chest. She tries to draw breath, but it doesn't make it to her lungs. Regina wakes up screaming.

It's a sunny day in Storybrooke, one of few, and they are taking advantage of it. Henry was never much into sports before they'd had their memories rewritten, but his friends in New York had introduced him to pickup basketball, and he'd found that he is surprisingly fast.

They're out on the court behind the middle school, and Henry has the ball. His face is scrunched up like he's trying to do long division in his head. Beside him, the ball beats rhythmically against the asphalt.

"Come on, kid!" she calls. "Take a shot sometime before my retirement party."

She can see his brow twitch in annoyance. She never tires of egging him on, especially considering how competitive he is. He switches hands, like he always does before he's about to take off, and he does. He's streaking toward her, his brow creased in concentration.

He is about three feet in front of her when he trips and flies through the air. At first she thinks it's over nothing, but then she sees it. Sees her.

"Hello, my dear," Cora murmurs as she rises right up out of the pavement in the middle of the playground. "Long time, no see."

"You're dead," Emma replies. She is positive she looks like she's seeing a ghost. Maybe she is. At this point, she's not sure why she's even surprised.

"Now, now, where are your manners?" Cora shakes her head. "Your mother's etiquette was always flawless. You wouldn't speak to your elders with that tone if I had raised you."

"What the hell are you doing here?" She sounds a lot more confident than she feels, mostly because _how the hell is Cora still alive?_

"I've merely come for something that's mine," she answers silkily. "I reached into your chest. I won your heart fair and square, but I walked away empty handed. Now, that's not right is it?" She shakes her head. "Well, if I can't have your heart, I'll have to just…" she glances at Henry, still on the ground, staring up at her. "Settle for collateral."

And before Emma has time to react, she plunges her hand into his chest.

When it emerges, it is grasping something red and translucent and glowing. For a second, all three of them simply watch Henry's heart beat.

And then Cora squeezes.

He is on his side, gasping for breath, and Emma screams and charges at her. She collides with Cora, with a force that brings them both to the ground. She hears Cora laugh as she climbs off of her. She is on her back on the asphalt laughing and her hand is covered in dust. Two feet away, Henry lies on the ground, motionless, blood seeping from his chest onto his shirt.

She feels like something is constricting her chest. She tries to draw breath, but it doesn't make it to her lungs. Emma wakes up screaming.

Something falls off her chest when she sits up. It looks like a lemur perhaps. Its wearing a hat. It scurries back into the trees, several others following it. She can hear everyone else around her. They're all panting. Her eyes sweep the trees. That's when she sees the first face. With ears like a bat, a large, convex, pointed nose, and baring long, crooked teeth it looks like something straight out of one of the _Harry Potter_ movies.

It looks like a goblin.

* * *

A/N: So, at just over 7000 words, this is the longest chapter I've ever written. Those dream sequences turned out to be harder to write than I expected. Ruby's and Elsa's came to me right away, but I had a hard time with Snow's, Regina's, and Emma's. Also, I have once again found myself starting to ship a pairing that I had no intention of getting together.

So, there's one thing I'm wondering about, and that's the allotment of time between the different storylines. There's the Narnia storyling, the flashback storyline, and the Enchanted Forest storyline with Mulan and Anna. I've been trying to spend more time on the storyline with the characters you recognize (as opposed to the flashbacks), because that's what I assume you're all more interested it, but it would be helpful if I had some input from you guys on whether I'm spending too much or too little time with any of the characters.

Anyway, please please please review. Seriously, every review means so much to me.


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